Tuesday, March 31, 2009

my mother is pro-choice and im alive

Everyday I pass by people holding signs saying "Fetus are babies too" and "Right to life".  The people holding their signs hold their rosaries and pray to God that this "injustice" will stop. 
I pray to God that this judgement will stop.  
Although, I have never had an abortion, I can only imagine that it is not a fun experience. I bet never has there been a woman who has skipped into the abortion clinic like a child into Chuck E. Cheese ready to trade in her golden ticket for the chance of a lifetime.  I bet most women if not all  go into the experience scared to freakin death.  From what many women refer to as a pregnancy scare, to holding a positive test in their hand, to walking through the doors of the clinic, I would imagine their is absolutely no joy in the occasion.  I don't know the stories of all the women who have ever had an abortion, but I would imagine the consensus would be that they felt alone, scared, crazed, out of control. For those women who have had numerous abortions, Im sure that they feel numb. Absolutely and utterly numb.  Being numb has never been a feeling I have enjoyed and it is often accompanied by loneliness, depression, and other not so good feelings. They, despite their personal convictions, Im sure feel shame pouring down on their head.  I would imagine that it would be something along the lines of being stoned in the middle ages, although I have to say I have never experienced that either. The absolute last thing I would want would be more stones thrown at me while Im trying to bade myself into making absolutely the hardest decision that I have ever made in my entire life. 
I would imagine that the folks who are standing on this corner think they have their hearts in the right places.
But if I were the one walking into the abortion clinic, I wouldnt want someone standing on the street corner praying for me. I would want someone to hold my shaking hand.  
What about you?

Its official


Here is the website to where I will be. I will be leaving August 21st 2009 and will be gone for a year in mission work. Please be praying for me.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

I wish to be...

I wish to be a happy accident.  Not by birth, neither bastard nor unsuspected, nor in death an occurance by bus, plane or car which leads to fortune under a roof in which I endear.  I wish to be a happy accident in life.  A person by their mere luck or happenstance arrives at moments in which they could not be welcomed more warmly or upon better occasion. A person that flows throwing flowers upon the walls creating masterpieces and lives as if with each movement of her cloak sends waves of delight upon the rest of creation. This happy accident does not fiddle with plans or date books because she is arrives at always the correct moment and if she were to stumble it would only create blessings and never destruction.  
This happy accident is often creating what some might see as messes and yet many who understand the nature of happy accidents would see the beauty that would manifest from her doings and undoings.  
Her slightest movement of tying her shoe or scribbling with a child creates radiance like the sun.  From her mouth flows only truth, because truth is the only accident which could bring happiness.  
She is loved by all, and hated by many.  But despite everything, it is her summit that brings most clarity. For when she happily and accidentally leaves this world, she leaves a little less chaos behind, much happiness, and much more peace. 

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Without a clear path....

As of late, with the introduction of blogging into my life, I have used blogging (my substitute journal writing) to get a point across. I, however, began journal writing as a way for me to breathe. Assured breathe of healing and peace, that secluded me from the rest of the world even if it be for only minutes. I can depict very distinctly the healthiest time of my adult life, and this was a time when journal writing was a like a drug to me. Anything I felt, I did not leave bottled up inside, but rather it exploded like dynamite onto the page. I miss the roughness of it all with a distaste for correctly spelled words or proper grammatical punctuation. I did not set out on this journey to be a good writer. I set out on this journey to be writer up to no good. I simply have a passion for life. A peaceful, elegant, nature-filled, journey-filled life. I have escaped from my passion and I want to get back to my roots. I want my feet to be grounded deep in the soil soaking up water, pure and sweet, and nutrients, strong and medicinal. I want my core to be strong and able to hold up the weight that this world throws at me. I want my arms reached to the sky filled and my hands will with love and service for the father that has made me greatly and gracefully. I have a song that has been stuck in my throat creating for phelgm and congestion. I want to scream from the very tops of my branches creating music, perhaps not note-appropriate, but beautiful none-the-less. I want to take these broken branches and learn to sway again in the breeze. I want to dance to the wind and in the rain. I want to soak up the sunlight and not grow weery in the winters. I want to take these opportunities granted to me and soar with them. Although grounded, I want to be free to fly.
I longed only for my journals to be read (as I believe any person with a passion for writing does), and this is why I extended by journal journey on to the world wide web.
So hear I am, at a point in my life when healing even from a single deep breathe my bring peace into my life.
I am two days out of the death of my grandmother and staring straight down a tunnel of empty conversations with people who have seen me since I was this big and mundane catholic services full of empty words, misunderstood promises, and gloom over the alter rather than rejoicing in a Savior who did in fact rise from the grave and is not still on the cross. I do have an amazing family and set of friends who have been there for me and in making this situation less awkward.
I have continously wanted to make vows to myself over these past few weeks. To do this better or to do that better. I know now what the problem is. I DO NO KNOW what is best for myself.
I am two months shy from graduation and I am freaking out. I have know plan, and if I start flying now it would be haphazardous and pure luck, or maybe grace if I landed anywhere much less where I would want to be.
I am completely out of my head, body, spirit. I NEED TO GET BACK TO MY ROOTS. I need to resort back into a seed. I need to cultivate my spirit and create balance once again. How can you dance if youre body is made to tumble? How can you sway when you are built to fall? I need to learn about myself. I have gone through so many changes these past few years, but have not had the time to develop them. I need to know myself in order to make correct descions for myself. I need to love myself, but how can you love something you do not even know.
I am searching for peace, but you have to start from an X marks the spot. If you do not know where you are starting from, how do you go in the right direction?
My father used to stay to me when entering a busy place to "stick to him like glue". God, father almighty, pass the Elmers! The sap of my core is overflowing and I am hear to stick to you like glue.