Life

Staying airborne...

Staying airborne...

When I woke up this morning bright and early, I thought almost immediately about writing. And for whatever reason, the title above came to mind. It wasn't until after my morning caffeine that I realized why: I'm not crashing anymore. I thought, though, that I was going to be writing about strength or resilience or courage. As I searched for quotes (see, now you know my writing process), nothing that came up for those words resonated with me. Then another word came to mind: contentment. It would seem that my mental image of flying is less about strength or resilience and more about the contentment that comes with being where you are.

Ashes 13: Quality of life...

Ashes 13: Quality of life...

Jesus' intent for most if not all of his encounters with people isn't just about living. It's about thriving. It's about being a part of community, about having a place to call home. Often, after Jesus healed someone in scripture, that person would ask to follow Jesus, would show a desire to be a part of the work he was doing. More often than not, Jesus' response was, "No. Go home. Go back to where you belong." It wasn't that Jesus' didn't want the company or the friendship. It was that his healing a person was always more than just a physical act. It was holistic, encompassing the whole of a person's life.

Ashes 10: Give life...

Ashes 10: Give life...

Growing up, I remember hearing the phrase "Jesus came to die" over and over and over. Back then, I simply believed it, took it at face value. As I got older and struggled with depression and thoughts of self-harm, the idea that the person who was supposed to save me only showed up to die was pretty heartbreaking....

It had to be about more than death...

Touching death, touching life...

Touching death, touching life...

...THE MORGUE...

Nothing can prepare you for the chill, the smell, the fluorescent lighting. There is no way to get yourself psyched up for stepping into a cooler that serves as a temporary stopping point for the recently deceased. Yet sometimes you have to open the door and step inside. You have to unzip the bag and stare into the abyss of mortality...

Did I just say that? Yes, yes I did.

Where's our call...

Where's our call...

Where's the phone call for the young boy who constantly tormented by their male counterparts? Where's the tweet from the First Lady showing support for the girl who's the epitome of a tomboy by excelling at volleyball, basketball, soccer, or even boxing or martial arts? Where's the face-to-face conversation with the trans youth who is attacked on their first day at school of wearing an outfit that truly expresses who they are?

Ambiguity of death...

Ambiguity of death...

When I was growing up, I remember countless funerals where people would remark on the current state of the person being mourned. "She's with her Savior." "God called her home." "She's not in pain anymore." "It was her time." Back then, blanket statements used to bring me comfort. When your grandmother was one of fifteen siblings, and the generation before had almost as many, you went to a lot of funerals. Back then, I didn't ask questions.

Breath...

Breath...
Love of our neighbor presupposes love of ourselves. We cannot love other people if we do not love ourselves. But we cannot love ourselves if we do not want to be ourselves, but want to be someone else. 'Self'-less love in the literal sense is no love at all, for it has no subject. Self-love is the strength to love our neighbor. Self-love is the foundation for a free life.

Born to die...

I just recently finished reading "Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt" by Anne Rice. Towards the end of the book (it's the first in a pair), Jesus comes to a realization - everything that is born is born with one final, concrete purpose in mind: to die. This is something that I think I realized from a very young age, and for the most part, has been an ideal with which I am comfortable. In talking with B. and continuing to think about my own personal career path, I learned something pretty cool about myself. When I meet someone or have someone become a part of my life, I tend to not see an age, a number. I see a heart, a mind, a soul, longing to be touched by my own, and once that connection is made, then I'm sometimes made aware of how old a person is. What do these things have to do with each other? Well I've decided that my number one option for nursing school is to go into geriatric nursing practice. Older patients are well aware of their age - the last thing they need is a health care provider who sees only their age. So while I know that death is inevitable for myself and everyone around me, it's nice to know that until that time comes, for me or for them, I am able to cherish the person they are, and the love the bring into this world.

Til the end of time...

One of my favorite fictional characters os Dr. Who. Today, I watched the newly annual Christmas special, this time titled "End of Time". It features David Tennant as the 10th Doctor once again saving the world. But for the first time in the new series, we see why he holds such remorse over his part in the Time War. He was responsible for the end of his race because the the "monsters" they had become. It's his actions and his emotions that lead me to admire him so much. He loves the rest of the Gallifreyans, but he cannot let them destroy mankind. Towards the end of the episode, David Tennant regenerates into the 11th Doctor, played by Matt Smith, who is very handsome I must admit. But this is a drift... I wish I were a Time Lord. I wish I could see the whole of my life and the world around me as one continuous stream flowing and I can pop in and out. But it would come with a cost. It's a lonely path. I am here on Earth, now, in this time and place, in my own skin, for a reason. I do not always know what it is, but I can only hope that my life serves a small but important purpose. Whether it be sharing a song that I wrote, helping someone out with the work that I do, or even just making someone else smile with a hug or my own smile. We are here, for whatever reason, to share the life, the light that we've been given. I can only do my best to make sure that my life shines before men. I may only be one person, but I can still make a difference and change a life. And I plan on making sure that I do.