Thursday, May 5

my prayer

God... it's me, 
i'm sorry i caused people pain; will you help them? help them heal and be happy. will you bless them with every sweet and tender blessing? will you help them not be afraid of me? will you do that for me please?
and God... will you help me too? i'm not doing very well...  
someday, can i be home again..., please? 

this will forever be my prayer...

Sunday, April 17

The Blank Page

Dear Blank Page, 
I used to come to you, empowered, free, bursting. You were a safe place, a canvass upon which I could paint my soul in every desperate hue. The deepest blues, the most brilliant yellows and reds, and I could be seen, understood, heard, felt, found by gentle eyes. But now, today, my muse is gone from me. I am silenced and cannot come to you, for what good are the words that are un-writable and unreadable? I cannot write a syllable when every word and sentence is scrutinized in fear and open to returning threat and control. It is heartbreaking and soul crushing and suffocating of life and love. I live in a world where the lion and bear entrap and control and await in fear and anger to rip and tear at the tenderness of me, and I see no way out. I am broken by it endlessly through tears of the night, both fallen and unfallen, endlessly whispering into the eternities for the healing touch to my soul, in the dark I reach out in prayer to my fathers, ask them to help me, but the quiet is deafening, and the distance devastating. What do I do with that kind of loneliness? I simply pray, in the mound of broken pieces of me, that God will hear me someday, and the healer will have me someday, find me in the sacred room of my heart, walk the floor of flower petals to where my soul lies naked and wounded, under the glow of countless candles, protected by walls of living redwoods whose majestic leafy canopy opens high over head to reveal the stars of heaven above in an infinite universe kept warm by a fat moon and alive by shooting stars one after another in happy colors bringing wish after wish and dream after dream... true. A place where babbling brooks bounce over boulders and race as dancing silver through the base of the trees reminding me of the warmth of living waters from the healer covering my skin, wetting my lips, and giving me life and bringing me home; for these are the images of imagination, in beautiful details of immaculate dreams, my heart has always felt and longed for, the very essence of me which I will long for forever, dreams of who I want to be, who I long to become, who I believe I really am. Inside this dream, my future I have seen, infinite love inside a gaze of deepening blue holding countless stars in a universe of miracle and possibility. Captured in delicate sound, sung in a hymn, and heard in a perfect echo of promise. Love is divine and greater than all... and when... someday... the God of heaven hears me and the healer holds me, and I am no longer hurt and broken, half and wanting, but when I am once again whole and home, then my dear friend, my blank page, my hearts canvass, the words will come again as I speak with the voice of an angel, weep in the miracle of love, and everything spoken in word and touch will be given and received in tender tears of power and purity, because it's all still there, inside, waiting, under the ruins of this today, under the sea of salty sorrow, waiting for tomorrow, waiting for someday... I am still here.

Saturday, March 19

Remembering Family

I grabbed a few of the pictures from the slideshow...

i love this picture of our family, i miss you dad


one of my favorite pictures of them, oh how i miss them!

they loved to fish, together

Steve and Nadine and their kids, my cousins

while i was on my mission, my grandpa Givens past away, it was a very sad day to me, although he and i were not very close, we cared about each other tenderly, i knew he did, and i loved him very very much and he was the closest thing i had to a father after dad died

a day of killing chickens, it was a whole family endeavor and a wonderful memory of my childhood

so very sweet, makes me laugh at the goodness of them, and cry that they are gone

Larry, Guy, Steve, Kay (my mothers best friend in their early twenties)

i love this picture

this was their home and my very young memories of them are in this house, they eventually built a new home and this house became Guy and Julie's, great grandma on the right had a white home, small, simple, with a enclosed porch and i have a few delicate cherished memories of visiting her there

our family and grandma and grandpa at a park near Lake Tahoe in NV

my dear parents, who i love with all my heart

i loved riding motorcycles at grandmas

i love seeing my father smile

grandma, kay, and grandpa... this would have been about the time my mother came into the Givens family (born into the Clements family of course, but taken in by the Givens)

someday i hope to know every story of everyone in this picture...

i was on my mission when this was taken

this would have been shortly after my dad died, Steve (far left) and I were never close, he is a strong, bold, man but one never felt safe around, he tried to drown me in a hot springs on a father and sons trip (he didn't take me, grandpa did) and i am sure he would say he knew i would be just fine, but the closest i ever felt to drowning was that day in the pool as he held me under and scared me terribly, i was not nice when finally i successfully fought my way out of his grasp and to the surface, i cussed him up and down with the mouth of a sailor to the shock of the others in the pool (words I'm not proud of) - Guy (far right) was a smart and quirky man who I felt ok around but was never close to, but I liked him. Larry (middle right) was the uncle that I associated with most, but still my time with him was very limited - and of course Grandpa, well... just a perfect Grandpa in every way. I wish I had had so much more time with him. I feel the moments are cherished, but brief.

grandma's garden in which i spent a lot of time helping, mostly picking raspberries - eating one or two for every one that made it into the basket for grandma to make home-made jam with, so very yummy!

chicken killing day

another favorite picture

and one of my all time favorite pictures!

it is SO incredibly sweet to me that the Givens family took my mother in and never looked back, from day one she was family, and therefore... us too. It is one of the sweetest miracles of my life, those who love my mother, and I will forever be grateful in the most tender way for their love of her