I'm all written out.

give me two weeks.
I'll be back.


and go listen to rosie thomas.

with arms wide open

the light was filtering through the skylights, but our heads were all bowed away from the marvelous grace of God.
encircle us in your arms and hold us to your breast. enliven us, quicken our spirits, and sharpen our hearts to be aware of your presence. penetrate through the cloudy darkness and let us breathe deeply the clean new air.
our feet are dusty, we are all over dirty: clean us, wash us in that stream of red. rain down your blood, cover us with your grace, forgive forgive forgive. grant us peace.
we are all one. broken yet beautiful, for it is through our weaknesses that we are made strong.
let us take ownership of this story, to be alive and satisfied, always being made new.

my arms are wide open, for giving and taking, embracing and loving.
for massages, writing, improv piano.
for cradling, for holding hands, for little works of love.
to keep steady while spinning, or walking on a tightrope.
to invite, to bring in, to equip, to send out.
for surrendering, giving up, letting go.
to love and be loved, to give and be given, to grow in grace.



make us instruments of your peace;
where there is hatred, let us sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is discord, union;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.

grant that we may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
for it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
st. francis

packing.

two years down. I'm half-way done.
I'm packing to go home for two days then to return to a completely different westmont for mayterm.
strange.

I have funny goosebumps right now. this feeling is hard to put into words.
I don't know many seniors, but I know who they are and I know the impact they've had on this community. and they're leaving for good. who will step up and take their place?
and there are others who I won't see until january, or even august of next year.

I'm not sad or excited to leave, or for these people to leave. it feels like it's time, and at the same time it doesn't.
what is a few more minutes, a few more days, a few more months, a few more years?

all becomes memory soon enough. and we've had some good times, and we've had some bad times, but the next step will be good and bad as well--and sooner than later, we'll all be graduated and westmont will be far far in the back of our minds, just another isolated incident that can be condensed into a half of a second thought.
hmm. anyhow, back to packing.