between a rock and a hard place

i've been thinking a lot about elijah, lately. elijah the prophet, not elijah the kid who played the hobbit, in case you were confused...

i very much like idioms--they are so helpful in conveying things that you want to say, but might say badly, or clumsily. between a rock and a hard place is one of my favorite sayings. but i've gained a new respect for that phrase over the summer, which lead me right back into the story, and the arms (as it were) of elijah, the prophet.

elijah was a difficult man to be friends with, i imagine. that much intensity and purpose could wear out the most patient of souls. he was a fire-brand, a lightening rod, someone who did not hold with equivocations, or namby-pamby lackluster worship or thought. he did not put up with chicanery, not under any terms. i imagine he had a hard time having fun. fun probably was not easily had in elijah's time and place, anyway. but, even if he'd been born in disney world, i imagine elijah would have had little time to have his picture taken with mickey mouse, or gone spinning in the tea cups til he barfed his mouse-shaped icecream onto his shoes. elijah was a man of principle. a man of discipline. a man with a plan, and a will to follow God, even if it meant that he was a rambler, a wanted man, hunted, and hated.

elijah found himself in a cave, in a wilderness, with death waiting on him if he went home, and his own disappointment if he didn't go home. elijah was stuck between a rock and a hard place. he had no choice but to be silent, to be uncomfortable, to be challenged, and to find a way to stand true and be who God was calling him to be. and in that posture of discomfort, between the physical rock and the spiritual hard place, elijah heard the voice of God. elijah felt the power of the strong wind, the magnitude of the earthquake, felt the heat and the power of the great fire, and was smart enough to know that the most powerful of all the things he witness that night was the whisper that came next. and elijah heard what he already must have known--to go back, and keep doing his job, and to be comforted in that purpose.

i don't like to be uncomfortable. i am uncomfortable a lot of the time, emotionally speaking, in my job. but to not do my job would be to deny who i am as a person, to say that God made a mistake, to call into question every place i have been, everything i have done, and every word that has come out of my mouth.

we live between physical rock and spiritually hard places, but how often do we be still enough, brave enough, quiet enough, and awestruck enough to listen to the whisper and respond with our whole hearts. sometimes you have to have your back against a wall to ever realize that moving forward is the only option. between the rock and the hard place is a holy place. God is there.

mil besos--rmg

summer begins to relent, sort of...

things are ok. really, they are. the ramp up to fall always comes to an apex, and we pick up the pieces left over from the blitz until christmas, and start all over again. funny how my life still mimics an academic one with the wax and wane of fall, winter, spring, and summer.

i'm trying to spend more quality time with myself. i know that probably sounds stupid, but it's very easy for me to forget to do my own thinking, my own praying, my own writing, my own art, my own life some days. there are days when the only thing i do that's self-motivated is try and remember to eat something green at every meal. i'm going back to the gym, and i'm suprised at how good that's been, just from a mental stand point, and the fact that i've decided to suck up the gas money and drive to the nice gym seems worth the trouble. it's nice to slip back into a routine of some sort.

i keep remembering these random phrases from the bible--like mental sound bites. the biggest one i keep hearing is " on this rock, i build my church." i keep thinking about peter, and what that meant. we think (or at least i do) about rocks for buildings being dressed, at least smoothed down, squared off, clean and tidy. i don't think that's what peter was like, at all. i think he was rough, broken, not terribly well-suited to have such trust vested in him. but God saw more, and knew better. and so i have a vocation today. and when my weaknesses are revealed in stark and stunning ways, i remember that i am just like peter--willfull, reluctant, stubborn, etc. and if God saw fit to build a church on such a one as peter, maybe God can do something with me, as well.

i think it's time to go back and re-read "the alchemist". i try to do that every couple of years. it's kind of like taking a vacation for me. i just re-read "til we have faces", over the last couuple of nights, and remembered why i loved that book so much. so often we see things the way we want to see them , forgettingor discounting the back stories, the alternate perceptions, the global/universal ramifications of our passions. it's good to remember that we are not only accountable for the rotten things we do, but also for the joys we forego. life is a spiral. it all comes back around, again, and again, and again. and the joys are sweeter, the pain a little easier to bear. and the closer we get to the middle of things, the more and more frequently things come back around.

things are good. the backyard is coming along. i officially hate brick as a medium of landscaping. i'll try and get some pictures up as things get closer to being finished back there. i'm already plotting my next project...furniture refinishing!!

mil besos--rmg

to write love on her arms...

man, what a day. if i could ask God one question, it would be this, "why do people have children if they aren't going to love and take care of them?". i don't understand why people bring children into the world, and leave them to take care of themselves. neglect is horrible, just as bad as abuse. i mean, what's worse--being ignored, or getting kicked around just for existing? same shit, different dress, if you ask me. i can't imagine ignoring my hypothetical children, or not fighting tooth and nail for them to have a happy childhood, or a healthy mind/body. i don't understand people who seem to have children out of some sick need to conform to society, and then just spend the next 18 years of that child's life ignoring them, farming them out to other grown-ups, abusing and neglecting them either physically or emotionally to the point that they may never be able to get well.

i think about having kids. i think about how much i want them in my life, how much i want to teach them to do things, show them the wonders of the world that i have seen, and watch them make discoveries of their own. i can't imagine with-holding affection from them, raising a hand to them in anger, treating them as less than valuable people, making fun of their ambitions or their limitations, or blaming them for being depressed, or anxious, or even just acting like teenagers. i konw that sounds lofty, because i don't have kids. and i know you can never underestimate the value of a visceral experience. but God help me if i would do any of that on purpose. or ignore someone telling me that my child was in danger, and that i better wake up.

i remember lessons i learned in high school about people who didn't pay attention to their sick child, and wanted to pretend that everything was fine. i never imagined i would see that re-inforced in my adult life, and still feel like my hands were just as tied as they were when i was 17. i don't want to go to a funeral that could be prevented. i understand that depression and self-injury are sometimes terminal diseases, i get that. but things don't have to be that way for the child in question. it's so hard for me to know that i have done everything i can do, and that this situation isn't any better. there's no quick fix. i'm not the police, or the doctor, or the parent, or the therapist. i have pushed as hard and as far as i can. and nothing has changed. not a damn thing. i cannot love this child enough to make her well. i can't tell her how special she is, or that things are going to get better, or that she's not going to be sick forever any more times than i already have and have her believe me. all i can do at the end of the day is to put her at the feet of Jesus, and hope that she can find some rest there. today was a hard day.

if you have some time, google "to write love on her arms". it's a powerful story. and it's beautiful. hope is sometimes a hard thing to find, but i know it's there, it's there and it's abundant, and it belongs to all of us.

mil besos--rmg

good lord, have mercy...

i wish i had something of import to say at this point. i just don't, because i am so tired right now. i'm trying really hard to rest and take care of myself, it's just hard right now. too many different directions, and i feel like i'm being sort of drawn and quartered. and i know that when this happens, parts of my life will suffer. there will be people who don't get enough of my attention. there will be things that don't get done (like cleaning the bathroom...sorry jinx!) or will get done to a point that they keep me up until all hours trying to make them perfect. this is how i know it's fall. that and everyone in my universe is going through some kind of transition that's driving them nuts in some form or fashion. my days have seemed so long this week, i think because i've been eating lunch at my desk. not leaving here for an hour in the middle of the day makes it seem so much longer. thank goodness today is my version of friday. hopefully, if i can keep all my plates in the air for 72 more hours, i can get my house cleaned and my laundry done.


my crazy old people make me laugh. i wish i could tell you some of their stories, but i know it's agains the rules. they are pretty amazing, though. some of them are funny, some of them will break your heart. none of them are boring, though. and that's a good thing.

i caught myself singing along with the radio today. the song on was an old, old, old duran duran track (ordinary world). i hadn't heard it in years, but i still knew every word. i felt sightly uncool about how well i knew the words, and how much i liked the song. i've sort of reconciled that now, though. random, i know. kind of like how i feel like i iron my clothes with more vigour if i watch a western while i do it. raise your hand if you watched lonesome dove AND tombstone this week--i have a plethora of ironed clothes, now. finally.

that's all. i need a nap. or maybe just to sleep for 36 hours. maybe i'll take myself to the zoo on saturday...

mil besos--rmg

simplify, simplify, simplify...

i stayed home from work yesterday. that almost never happens. i took medicine, slept the bulk of the day, slathered vick's vapo-rub all over my chest and throat, and turned my bathroom into a steam-shower four times. i am so glamorous, it's hard to even contemplate it, sometimes. shocking to think that i am still single, isn't it? taking a for real sick day was glorious, and even though i still sound like kathleen turner, i feel a little better. my poor cat didn't know what to think--he's used to me getting up, turning on the tv, getting ready for work, and bolting out the door by 9:30 most mornings, and not getting home until 6 or 7 at night. i think he was secretly irritated to have to share the bed all day.

i spent two days at a leadership conference last week with my staff. my boss told me to work on processing everything we heard/saw/read, to journal or blog about it. so i'm blogging in the middle of a work day, and i don't feel too guilty about that. bossman said to do so, and i like to be a good soldier, so here i am. and truth be told i don't really know what i think about everything i heard last week. i'd like to believe that there are some good nugets to be put to use, some real depth and substance to be explored and put into practice.

my fear is that too many cook spoil the broth. and we have so many, many, many cooks. and i'm not sure that we're all real clear on what the menu is. it reminds me of pot-luck dinner at church, where everyone knows just what they want to bring, but there's a good shot that without some direction, you'll just end up with a table full of pea-salad, or nothing but desserts and deviled eggs. so i'm processing. and i'm afraid. a little afraid.

but this is not my table. it belongs to God, and my job is to bring to God what God has given to me. and to unappologetic about that. and so i will be. even though the thought scares me, and what i have to give seems so different, so small and large and overwhelming and insignificant. but it is God's. and it is mine.

i know in my bones that at some point in the near future, i will go to Africa. i don't know how. i don't know why. and i don't know where. but i am going. i know that like i know my own name. it's not even so much as a desire as it is a compulsion. and i can't ignore it. i have known i would go to Africa since i was in college. and lately, the dreams of dust and noise and movement, of blue sky and red earth haunt me and loom larger than they ever have before. something, and i don't know what, broke open inside of me while i was in mexico, and i can't help but think that the trickle is a flood now, and i have to just relax, and let it take me where i'm going. to fight it seems like something close to a sin. i have many questions. many questions. and i am realizing that the answer to most of them, or at least to the most important of them has to be "yes".

mil besos--rmg

half asleep

that's pretty much how i feel. you know that moment when you realize that you are, in fact, having a dream, and that you must wake up? that's pretty much how i have felt for the past week. i can't figure out why. it's bizarre. i thought i was hormones or allergies or stress. now, i think maybe it's a sign from God and i'm just supposed to wait it out, until i either see a burning bush, or auras, or start getting messages on the traffic boards that give construction information along loop 410. whatever the case, i wish i would either get the message, or be able to get some sleep. this is getting a little ridiculous.


mil besos--rmg

stream of consciousness

we're dancing, dancing, dancing

cumbias and honeysuckle and pozole and small children with faces painted like tiny clowns

and i'm driving driving driving with the windows down and the top back

and the sky is so blue that at the edges it looks white and for the first time in a long time, i can see what tomorrow is going to look like. and i like it fine. and the middle of the bed is the best place to sleep.

and since the rain stopped and summer showed up my steering wheel is like a brand when i begin to drive. and i drive and drive and drive. but this time, i am not driving away. i am driving to someplace, someplace, someplace i think i have never been but see in my dreams. and maybe it's the beach or the desert or the city or a gravel road and maybe i'm singing at the top of my lungs, some kind of rockstar prophet social worker turned politician and honest woman. maybe i remember that the mole i ate was first made by the aztecs who were warlike and peaceful and made great art and music and chocolate and were ruled by shamans.

maybe the shaman was in the mole and he lives in my belly now, full full full of the earth and the sky and the sun and the quetzal and square flat topped pyramids. tiny, tiny, tiny flecks of stars peep down and say hello with the fire of ten thousand summers and smiles and tunes and stories and they smell like chlorine and bug repellant and coconut flavored sun-block. and my nose is peeling, again. freckles for fall.

sleep, perchance to dream and maybe make some sense of all that i've seen this week. stories of people getting sober, getting drunk, dying, falling in love, getting divorced, being happy, crying the whole way home over something as small as symantics. getting ready to help people live, getting ready to help people die. hold the stories like you hold a bird with a broken wing--gently, gently, you never know when you will need to be held. you are worth being held, and held well. you are. strength from the milk of human kindess, whether in a phone call or note or embrace. drink deep. be filled.

damned redeemed black white truth lies crazy sane for whom the bell tolls countless times, but for once it chimes for me. at least once. i know it. it woke me from my dream this morning. when what really woke me was the dream that i was eating oysters with the cast from west wing, and choked on a pearl. and i was in california, on an open road trying to find my way to I-10 so i could watch turtles cross the high way on their way back to the sea. i should really read about rastas during the day time...

i think that's really enough for today. my allergies are getting the best of me.

mil besos--rmg

en mexico

that is where i am, dear ones. and this is the first chance i have had to get a note out to you all. i am fine, and in fact, am dreading leaving this place, just a little bit. we have been having such a good time. and i have to tell you that i do not think i will be the same person when i come home.



home...such a wonderful word. and home means so many different things to so many people. you would not believe the poverty in this place if i told you. or maybe you would. all i can tell you is that it breaks my heart. but it humbles me, too. and i can see the abuse by abundance that we place on ourselves, as well. oh, i am not saying that i am coming home to sell all my possessions and live with the poor. but i will certainly think about it. and i mean that in all honesty. i really, really, really mean that. right to the tips of my toes.



last night, we shared church with the people who worship at el buen pastor, the episcopal church we have been working with. maria elena is one of the priests, and she gave the sermon in english and in spanish. we made eucharist together, speaking different languages at the same time. it felt like pentecost mixed in with the magical mysetry tour. the older ladies at the church have been cooking for us all week, and they made us pasole last night. and we danced until we could not dance anymore. (incedentally, i cannot find the apostrophy on this spanish language keyboard, hence the lack of contractions...ay dios mio...)



anyway, maria elena began her sermon by addressing us as " my brothers and sisters" and i started crying. it was such a precious moment to me. in that moment, i realized the only thing of any worth i brought to my brothers and sisters in mexico is myself--just being with them. that is really the only thing of any value i have to give them. they do not need my standard of hygeine, just because that is what i am comfortable with. they do not need my news, or my ideas, or my ideals for that matter. they just need me to see them, to really see them. to see past the crushing poverty, the struggle for mere subsistance, to see past the nits and the dirt and the smells, and see that they are my brothers and my sisters. they are whole people. they are beautiful and broken and just like me.

i did not have time to go on this trip, for lots of reasons. i honestly do not think when i left san antonio i had room in my heart to be on this trip. too many ideas too many ideals too clean too american too much. and somewhere along the way, the Jesus who lives here and the Jesus who lives inside of me met and made something new inside of me. and thanks be to God for that. it was time.

blessed am i among women.

mil besos.
rmg

by the numbers...

1--number of times my nephew punched me in the leg last weekend, after i removed some dangerous article from his hands.

190--number of miles i put on my car driving for work last week

2--number of loads of laundry i did this week in the giant washer in our communal laundry room, for the bargain price of $4.00. woo hoo.

355--the number of dollars i spent on securing a home warranty policy, so that all my appliances would be covered for the first year i owned my home, only to find out this week that my washer and dryer are not included. i'm still doing some detective work, though...

52--the number of pages i have written in my book, so far.

14--number of times i've been to the hospital in the last ten days. i'm kind of over hospitals right now. i hate them, which i realize is a dumb thing for me to say, seeing as how going to hospitals is a big part of my job. i hate, hate, hate them. and i hate that i know how to get around in them, with some kind of sixth sense, know how to sweet talk nurses and doctors to get what a patient needs, without having a shirley mcclaine moment from "terms of endearment", how i ride in the staff elevators like i belong there, how i scope out parking spaces, how i try not to cry when i leave, because when i leave, i always wonder when i'll have to come back, and how things will be. i always feel like i need to take a bath when i leave the hospital, to wash the smell off me, to prove that i'm home, and i don't have to stay there. and then i feel like a real jerk. see--sometimes, most of the time, i'm really not as nice as people think i am.

12--number of laps i swam the other night. not enough, but better than none, i suppose. the pool, in my defense, was highly over chlorinated, and i'm pretty sure i don't have any nose hair left, at all.

4--number of pillows i absolutely have to have on my bed in order to sleep with any degree of certainty. i've tried it with three, and that's moderately ok. but for real, hard, restful, decent sleep, 4 is the magic number. and i have to have my down comforter. i can't stand having a top sheet on my bed, and unless the fitted sheet is deep pocketed, i can't use one. i also have to sleep with one foot sticking out of the covers, at all times, usually the right foot, because i sleep on my left side. i know, it's complicated, and you don't really even need to know this.

1--number of background checks my bestest friend has done on my new crush. good news--new crush is clean as a whistle. so glad, aren't you?

3--hours i spent ironing clothes after washing and drying things. i hate how completely thourough i have to be when i iron something. and i'm almost out of starch, which i find irritating because i bought the big can last time. that is one of those "adulthood" things that grabbed me, and just won't let go. i'm so picky about that, now. and i was the kid who lived in jeans and t-shirts until well into college. it's a little nuts. and i had to clean my room before i could actually sleep. and i suddenly hate having dirty dishes in the sink, or clean ones in the dishwasher. and it's driving me nuts that i haven't dusted my room in a week. who am i? where did the other me go? holy moly...

1--number of times i have been to starbucks this week. i know, supress your shock. i've been trying to be fiscally more responsible, so i've been drinking crappy church office coffee. it's hard, ya'll. the coffee is so bad here. it makes me sad, but it takes the sting out of the morning headache. and as long as i remember to bring milk from home, it's almost ok. and it's free. which makes it almost sweet, instead of thickish sludge, much like what one would dredge off the bottom of my beloved san antonio river. sick out.

2--number of vacation options i have researched. a lady need to take a trip, people! i'm thinking either another jaunt to the wilds of far west texas with kristen and laura jane, or a trip to vancouver with ryan. i wish i had the time and the moolah to do both, but that house payment wants to be made EVERY MONTH! geeze louise...

0--number of naps i have taken this week, even though these rainy afternoons make for perfect napping weather. however, bossman is out of the office for the week, so rachiepoo is busy keeping the ship afloat with our senior warden.

75,000--number of times a day i remind myself that i love my job, even though people i work with drive me nuts. i know i am here for a reason. and that reason is not so i can go crazy before i turn 30. i know that. i know that. i really think i know that.

mil besos--rmg

bone tired...

i haven't really stopped moving since about may 5th. and i'm not complaining about that, i'm just saying i've been going, going, going for a month and change. and a lot of water has gone under the bridge between then and now. i'm going to my momma's house this weekend, to see the extended fam, mess with my little fat nephew (who is so strong that he can break out of his playpen at will...talk about a hoss...), drink beer with my brother, hear stories i've heard a million times, and some that i've never heard before. it will be a wonderful time, i'm sure. and i might even sleep. maybe. i hate to miss something due to a nap. but that's the story of my life.

i've been so busy this week. between trips to the hospital with little old ladies, communion appointments, and just trying to get my office in some kind of order after moving into a different part of the building, i'm a little frazzled. and i only made it to the gym once this week. boo. very, very bad. but it's ok. i just can't wait until next weekend, when i have absolutely nothing planned at all. and i refuse to do anything. period. i might go to the pool and work on my tan. i might work in my backyard. i might do laundry. or i might just read on my porch, nap in my bed, dust my room, and not turn on the tv for 48 hours. of course, that's assuming that none of my critical cases step on rainbows to go be with Jesus (footnote--kinky friedman), and i'm not planning funerals or dealing with their relatives. it's a crap shoot. we'll keep our fingers crossed, at any rate.

it's almost time for another "by the numbers" post, but i'm waiting on a couple of things from this weekend before i blow your mind with any stats from my mostly-mundane but personally gratifying existance.

for now, i'll leave you guys with the advice to go out and buy the new brandi carlile cd (much gras to caro, who gave it to me)--some of the songs make me want to throw myself under a bus, but in a good way. i think i'm nursing a new crush, and i'm kind of moderately excited about that. sweet. and, if you need a new cd to dance by, go pick up the new mika disc (ryan sent this one to me...oh my friends who send me music because they know i am a)descriminating and b)making mortgage payments, you rock my socks off, quite literally...) it's great for jamming out during traffic and makes you want to smooch on someone fun and dance til the wee hours.

i've been reading ts eliot, william blake, and shelby foote. my mind is a little muddy. and i'm sleeeeeeepy. sorry the last two posts have been so lame. i'll try and do better. i promise.

mil besos--rmg

ghosttown...

so, i totally overthought how bad my high school reunion was going to be. shocker--me over-think anything? what? oh but i did. damn near paniced and turned around about eighty times driving back on the road, that despite my travels and the fact that i don't have family living there anymore, still feels like the road home.

i saw people i hadn't seen in years. i laughed like a little kid. i saw the faces of my class mates on the faces of their children. and i put some old, aching, miserable ghosts to bed, hopefully for the last time. i drove past houses i used to live in. i made the loop around the park. i got a coke at sonic. for the first time, i had a beer at bonnie's house, and wasn't scared to death her parents were going to catch us drinking. it was surreal. and kind of nice.

the best part was knowing that while i don't always have the life i've dreamed of having, i no longer give two hoots and a holler about who thinks i'm cool or worth talking to. i was glad to know that the girl who felt that way didn't come to the reunion wearing my face. we all grow up, in our own time, and in our own way. and thanks be to God for that.

i imagined i would have to do a super-secret blog and tell you all about the things i saw and heard that weren't fit for public consumption. at the end of the day, all i can tell you is that i had a wonderful time. i had some amazing conversations. and i was ready to come home, back to the home i have made for myself, in this place and in this time. and sure, it's not always as pretty or put together, or even as full as i would like for it to be. but this is my life, all the pieces, and i'm proud of that. i have worked so fiercely to become who i am, to carve this out. i don't have time for regret or jealousy. that's a good thing to know. oh, and i know that i should never play the guitar after about 37 vodka drinks. it's the little lessons that count, right?

mil besos--rmg

Reading List for Summer/Fall 2007

slow blog week, i know. Iive pretty much felt half-asleep since, oh say last tuesday. i'm sure after this weekend, i'll have something to say. i mean, it's not every weekend you get to go to your ten year high school reunion. maybe i can even convince the 1989 uil spelling champion to do a "he said/she said" team post with me, just for this one little story. i'll keep you posted.

at any rate, i know you all just must be wondering with great anticipation what's on my reading list for the next six months...so i'll tell you. feel free to read along. i'll be giving some reviews along the way. i totally doubt i will get anywhere near done with this list, unless i give up sleeping and working, but if i can get through ten of these books, i'll feel pretty good about things. i'm already almost done with book five in the Harry Potter series--it makes for great reading on the exerbike at the gym. and i'm into the 1st volume of the shelby foote collection, so that's nice. it just kind of makes me a little narcoleptic...which may mean that it's a good bedtime book.

The Civil War, a Narrative—Shelby Foote
The End of the Affair—Graham Greene
100 Years of Solitude—Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Pride and Prejudice—Jane Austen
The Kite Runner—Khaled Hosseini
The Time Traveler’s Wife—Nifenegger
The Lovely Bones—Alice Sebold
Snow Falling on Cedars—David Guterson
Bless Me, Ultima—Rudolfo Anaya
All the Pretty Horses—Cormac McCarthy
A Good Man is Hard To Find—Flannery O’Connor
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee—Dee Brown
My Life is My Sundance—Leonard Peltier
A Brief History of Time—Stephen Hawking
Catch a Fire—Timothy White
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas—Hunter S. Thompson
Like Water for Chocolate—Laura Esquivel
A Room of One’s Own—Virginia Woolf
The Kennedys and the Fitzgeralds—Doris Kearns Goodwin
Rise and Fall of the Third Reich—William Shirer
The Satanic Verses—Salman Rushdie
About a Boy—Nick Hornby
Wuthering Heights—Emily Bronte
Thirteen Moons—Charles Frazier
Blue Like Jazz—Donald Miller
Harry Potter Series—JK Rowling


mil besos,

rmg

we are family...

alabama is at her most beautiful in the last throes of spring. memorial day weekend definately qualifies as late spring, i think. (hard to believe that summer is still a bare month away...seems like it was just christmas...) and even though the lovely state is in the middle of a drought, and the wildfires in georgia made going outside smell like a campfire all day, every day, alabama was nonetheless lovely. it's hard not to be happy when you're by the pool, with a high blue sky above you and family around you. granted, it's easy to be nostalgic, and maybe have to sneak off to a little corner to catch you breath and say a little prayer and cry a tiny tear, because family has a way of making your heart hurt, in a good way, because you love them and they love you, and even though you want things to stay the same, you know they change with every single heartbeat. that's beautiful and awful, all at the same time.

for example--my wee little cousins (ella is 4 weeks, austin is 3 years) grow so fast, you can almost hear them growing in their sleep. austin is in the late stages of potty training, and ella is trying to learn how to a)be a real person outside the womb, and b) set up a sleep cycle that makes some kind of sense to everyone. they are both doing very well with their tasks. granted, both of them have lungs that will hold a lot of air, and vocal chords that allow them to reach soaring heights at decibel levels that seem to defy the laws of nature...but they sure get their points across.

it's funny what you notice about the difference between boys and girls when they are small--and i don't mean anatomical differences, either. with austin, who is very much a little boy into little boy things (his mother reports that for the last two weeks, he's been so preoccupied with building his thomas the tank engine tracks that he's totally lost interest in playing with his neighborhood pals), playing is the name of the game. he's on the go. he will be on the go from here on out. he's very goal oriented--stories are for nap-time and potty-time, they are not part of play time. play time needs to be outside or on the floor, surrounded by things with parts he can't swallow. it's good stuff. he's very busy. i've had the same experience with the World's Greatest Nephew. he's very into playing, and his play is deadly serious to him. he's not much into sitting and listening. oh sure, they will hear the highlights of stories, and have stories of their own--about how no man with a drop of graves blood in his veins can get out of this world without a monumental scar on his chin, and how that scar, in some bizarre way, symbolizes your role as a man in the family, whether you can remember how you got it or not...

now i realize good and well that ella is only a month old, but that girl, and whatever girls come along after her, will be the keeper of the stories. girls have the time to sit and hear the story. oh sure, they play, but they play differently. ella will know the stories that grandma jane told anna and mia, and the stories granny told to anna, mia, and me. ella will know stories that nanny told granny, that momee told nanny, that mere told momee. she will hear stories about crazy aunt rosie, about aunt bunch, about new orleans, and belle chase, and how nanny and fred's best friends were the guilliardo's, and how they used to boil 200 pounds of crawfish in an afternoon, just to feed the families. and we will tell her our own stories, as well. and she, and all the other little girls will keep them, until their are new little girls to tell old stories to.

sure, she smells like sleep and promises. and she has the whole world in front of her, tiny chances and giant leaps that wait before her, like the angles of some higher heaven, waiting to catch her and keep her as she begins her own journey. she is part of my story. i am part of hers.

mil besos--rmg

theory of evolution

i have no idea when it happened, but i can tell you the moment i realized it. i was standing in the toilet aisle of home depot, trying really hard to decide whether or not to buy the american standard model, with the 5 year warranty, antibacterial glaze, and the ability to flush a record 154 sheets of toilet paper at one time, or the kohler well-worth model, which while not as flashy as the american standard, brought with it the esteem of the kohler name, and looked like it would match my bathtub and sink fairly well. i'm standing in the aisle, kind of biting my lip, shifting from foot to foot, trying like hell to pick out a toilet, and i was hit with the freight-train of a thought that went something like, "holy crap, THIS is what it feels like to be a grown-up."

keep in mind that the trip to home depot was just the last portion of a string of events over a 36-hour time frame that made my head spin. on friday, i woke up, went to the bank, and rolled over my 401k into an IRA. i went to see momma and grammy for lunch, since i had the day off, got my teeth cleaned, and made a mortgage payment. that night, i went out with my friend jax, and had 1.5 adult drinks. granted, we were at pat o's, by the alamo, but seriously...1.5 drinks. then we went to some townie bar, to see some people jax went to high school with, which we shut down, and where i didn't actually drink anything. i was home and in bed by 2:30. no big deal, right? wrong. wrong. wrong. i woke up saturday morning with A HANGOVER. A HANGOVER--like real bad headache, scratchy eyes, general instability in the gastro-intestinal region, and feeling like my cat forgot to use his box, and used my mouth instead.

hangovers have never really been a problem for me. first off, i'm pretty good (most of the time, exceptions are made for family get-togethters, pasture parties, graduation parties, weddings, ordinations, and funerals) at keeping a tight lid on the drinking, i mean, i'm not 19 anymore (and i did, in fact, drink 9 beers one night and fend off a frat-daddy's advances once, so it's not like i'm all j.v. about being able to hold my own...) in the rare event that i have been overserved, getting things put to rights is as easy as a cold soda (preferrably coca-cola) and a couple of breakfast tacos, with a four-advil chaser. and that's just if things have gotten really, really, fundamentally out of hand, which they very rarely do, most new year's eve celebrations aside...

this hangover was vengeful. there was no cause for it. none at all. and it was during that limnal moment between being hungover and finally feeling moderately ok, while i was standing in the toilet aisle at home depot that i realized that there was no going back. not ever. i have an IRA. i have a house-payment. i have a pet. i have plants that need to be watered and re-potted. i have a body that will punish itself for the most minor over-indulgence or lack of sleep. there has been a change. and even if i sell my house, give away my cat, kill my plants, and run off to some health spa to master cleanse, the real change, the change that's in my head and my heart is just there to stay.

secret is...i kind of like it.

mil besos--rmg

visual effects, and such...

it's been a while since i've updated on you all on the continuing development of the World's Greatest Baby. he's progressing nicely. recently, he was awarded a plaque naming him"American's Number One Producer of Baby Cheese". he's being weaned off his bottle, and can only have it in his bed, so he's really into napping now. apparently, he's also really into screaming as loud as he can in public places, which has forced my brother to become one of the all-time greatest tippers in the history of tipping. World's Greatest Baby can now bark like a dog, mew like a cat, roar like a lion, and give raspberries. he can also find his eyes, his toes, his nose, and his belly. he's also added new phrases, "Mine!" "Um-bum-ba" "Dass Cold!", and "I dopped it" to his growing communications lexicon. I am utterly owned by this child. Good lord...



i took this photo in Harper's Ferry, W. Va. i'm pretty sure that west virginia is the only state where you can still buy candy cigarrettes in a store that's not a cracker barrel. i love harper's ferry. it's one of my favorite places in the world. and the day we went was impossibly beautiful. notice that next to the box of cigarettes is a box of licorice pipes. i had no idea they even made those...

i snapped this picture on the appalacian trail, right outside harper's ferry. i was walking in the opposite direction, and had one of those moments where you just know what's behind you is beautiful, and i turned and got this shot. i think it's pretty special. hiking just a little bit on the trail made me want to come home, sell everything, quit my job, buy a better backpack, and walk 2000 miles from georgia to maine, just to see if i could do it. maybe one day...

i snapped this under the railroad trestle in harper's ferry. funny part is, seven years ago, i was on top of that trestle in an amtrak train bound for washington and the rest of my life. crossing the rivers was like crossing some kind of mystical barrier, between being who i had been up to that point in my life and who i was going to be for the rest of it. rivers are magical places, and i don't mean that in a hokey way. and the potomac/shenandoah convergence is one of the most magical.

i snapped this picture in the lady's room at ben's chili bowl. it's kind of stunning, i think. it's totally going in the book. i just hope i'm up to the task of writing something worthy of sitting next to this question. i keep going back to it, knowing that at some point, i'll know what to say. in the mean time, it's been a good catalyst for late-night thought. and thank God ben's decided to paint their bathrooms with blackboard paint--this was chalked high up on the wall, by the air duct.

this is my favorite dinner, ever. keep the enchiladas and rice, the meatloaf and mac and cheese. keep the lasagna and salad. keep the fancy steaks and lobster. keep the fois gras. keep the cedar planked salmon. give me a little taste of heaven in a red plastic basket, and i will be happy. this meal was eaten on the same little counter stool i used to sit on when i was a lowly office rat in our nation's capital, sweating out the summers, being uncomfortably cold in the winters (texas is hot, ya'll...), and being glad there was a place where people were friendly, al green was always on the jukebox, and the chili could take the rust off a nail. ahh, so good.

i'm so glad i have tomorrow off, even if i do have to go to the dentist. this week has eaten my lunch and thrown the left-overs in my face. i need a nap, and a stiff drink.

mil besos--rmg

the long and the short of it...

geeze oh man. i'm staring down the barrel of one hell of a week, friends and neighbors. these are the weeks when i remember that there are, in fact, 24 usable hours in everyday. i totally stole that line from "empire records", one of my favorite movies. it's uttered by liv tyler, who plays an overachieving speed freak. sometimes, the irony in life is almost too much to bear, people.

the dc vacation was so nice, if a bit rushed. and even though i went on a scenic tour of western maryland and got to go back to harper's ferry and take pictures, and even though i saw the international spy museum and learned new stealthy skills, and even though i got to eat at my favorite restaurant three times, none of those things were my favorite time with the girls.

my favorite parts were making up silly stories while making upside-down faces (you know, like when you were 12, and you'd lay on the floor with a blanket pulled over your eyes and nose, and put glasses on your chin, and act like a goober? yeah, we did that-and there are 5 college degrees between the three of us--and we laughed until our stomachs hurt...), ordering chinese from our favorite low-budget take-away and watching "shrek 2" in preparation for the third part. and i liked waking up each morning, knowing that adventure lurked around every corner, because the three of us are totally incapable of following a plan--not on purpose, but because life seems to have other plans for us that the ones we made ourselves. mr. caroline put up with our antics admirably well--possibly because he's a high school teacher or because i routinely threaten his life. someday, maybe i will bring mr. caroline a playmate to share with him in his hour of need. today is not that day.

i literally can't believe that it's almost summertime. it's as suprising to me as knowing my nephew is about a week away from being able to say my name. or that my cousin mia grew and gave birth to a real live person two weeks ago.

today, it took me four hours to get through two songs on my media player. i have seven meetings to set between now and the second week in june. i need to send out cards and make phone calls, and write three articles, one report, two announcements, and i still need to send a check to our class treasurer for my 10 year high school reunion. the oil in the car needs to be changed. tomorrow is pay day, and pretty much every red cent is allocated, already. my cat jinx sheds so much that i'm pretty sure i'm going to have to dust my room at least twice this week, and need to vaccum my floor asap.

other than that, i have two new pictures to go in the book, but can't find the words to go with them. they are great shots, though and i'm stoked about finding the right idea to put with them. i'm sure the muse will choose to speak at some totally inopertune time--like around 3 o'clock tomorrow morning, when i'm trying to figure out what to talk about in chapel(tomorrow is my last chapel of the semester, and i want to say something that the little angles will possibly remember as far as lunch)...and i'll either ignore it, knowing it's brilliant, or get up, turn on my laptop and hack it out, and resign myself to sleeping when i'm dead. it could go either way, at this point.

and just a word to the wise--the new mika album is really good. ryan sent it to me and i love it. also, benedryl can put you right to sleep, but can also give you weirdly lucid dreams. just so you know...and i think i may need a 12 step group to deal with my current and overriding obsession with blue grass music. i literally can't get enough-- maybe it was all that sweating we did in west virginia.

that's all. for now. something profound next time, perchance. we live in hope...which reminds me, welcome home to nate, who just came back from the desert.

mil besos--rmg

little pictures...

i taught chapel this morning. considering the events surrounding yesterday's shooting at virginia tech, and the fact that the event has been well documented on the news, radio, and in newspapers, it seemed foolish to imagine that we would not say something about what happened during chapel. the middle school kids were easy to talk to, mostly. they are much easier to reason with, explain to, tell the truth to. even the lower school kids were mostly ok. one parent told my boss not to talk about it in chapel, because she and her husband had decided not to tell the child anything about what happened yesterday. i think there's probably a line between telling too much and not telling enough, but not telling at all is not an option, at least not in my world. geeze louise.

so i talked to them about the gospel lesson for today--how if you love the least of these, God calls you righteous. and we talked about how everyday, (it's cool as all hell, check it out at one.org)we have the chance to love the least of our brothers and sisters. we talked about how and who we love shapes how we live. and in the back of my head, i hoped that they could feel like they weren't totally powerless in the face of a kind of anger and rage that can take all that away in a heartbeat.

it is a hard thing to tell children that they are safe, loved, make a difference, ect., in the face of such senseless anger and brutality. and i keep remembering to myself that God was in those classrooms, those dorm rooms, those operating rooms, those phone calls, those last moments. God was there. and God was sad. and i have to remind myself that the young man who did all this, and took his own life, as well, was someone's baby, too. and what happened to him? what could make someone do such a thing? life is such a precious, precious gift, and it's not ours to take away. it's ours to love, and conserve, and honor, right? what the hell are we doing to each other? God was there. God is here. God save us, every one.

somedays, i wonder if people don't get loved enough. i think sometimes, they don't. we live in a broken and dying world, and it's so freaking hard to come to terms with that. there are no easy answers. and this morning, staring out at those clean, shiny, precious little faces, who dare to believe that because i am taller than they are, that i have something to say to make sense of the hard things. so we tell them that it's all going to be ok, even on days when we're not sure it's all going to be ok. we try our best to keep them safe, to say and prove to them that love does make a difference in the world, and God helping us, that will turn out to be true and real.

mil besos--rmg

favorites

i love favorites. i try not to play them, but let's be honest. we all play favorites. we kind of have to. we have favorite friends to call, favorite beers to drink, favorites songs to put on repeat, favorite snatches of poems to attach to our mirrors, so we see our favorite thoughts during our least favorite part of the day.

the trick is to be honest about the favorites. you can try and cultivate feelings about people or things that don't exist. that's usually a pretty futile and tiring practice. i can honestly say that, because i have tried really hard to make myself like people or things, with the sole intent of rooting out old favorites. it's hard. on the other hand, sticking up for my favorites is kind of fun. it's like arguing a case for my existential all-stars. and it is possible to have more than one favorite. for instance, my favorite song--it's daysleeper, by rem. but it's also smells like teen spirit by nirvana. but it's also amazing grace by my momma. it's also up on cripple creek, by the band. and it's also you belong to me, covered by bob dylan. my favorite city--san antonio. but it's also washington, dc. it's also fredonia, texas. and i don't feel one bit conflicted in saying that. they are all my favorites.

i took communion to a little old lady on good friday. she was getting blood transfusions. she wanted to talk about her children. she wanted to tell me about how she met her husband. she wanted to talk about not wanting to move out of her house and into assisted living. that is my favorite part of my job.

i drove on my church ladies home from chemo last week. it was hard. she's not doing well, and trying to come up with contingency plans for hospice, disposing of her stuff, bills, ect. we were quiet some, and we talked some. and i gave her a hug when i dropped her at home. that is my favorite part of my job.

a young woman with a cute family came by my office last week, to talk about visiting shut ins and needing information about mother's day out. she went to speak to the priest about having her little one baptized. the very small cherub hung out with me for an hour. that is my favorite part of my job.

i had lunch with one of my little old ladies last week. she cooked me lunch. we talked about people at the church, how she used to help stuff and mail the church newsletter, how her son always comes to blow the leaves out of her yard, how she'd like another dog. i was there for 2.5 hours. it was great. that is my favortie part of my job.

one of the kids in youth group is having a rough time right now. tonight, she called me to vent and talk about her life--what's going wrong, what's going right, how she feels, where God is in the middle of all this upheaval. we talked for an hour, even though i wasn't on the clock today, at all, and even though i was enjoying being in the relative anonymity of starbucks, hogging up wi-fi, and reading random crap on wikipedia. that is my favorite part of my job.

a couple walked in from the bus stop last week. they had been flooded out of their trailor. they were trying to get back on their feet. it was the wife's birthday--even said so on her drivers' license. we were able to help them, a little bit. that is my favorite part of my job.

the other day, i looked at my business cards. for the first time in a long time, i knew who the name on the card belonged to, and i was happy to know her. happy to be her. happy to find out more about her, every day. even on the hard days. i realized that i was doing exactly what God made me to do. and i was exhilarated. that's my favorite part of my job.

happy easter.

mil besos--rmg

the fact of the matter...

i heard it said once that there is no such thing as a casual comment. i believe that down to the darkest bottom of my itty bitty cold hard heart. the most innocuous joke, silly little aside, tossed off one-liner can a) have a thousand meanings, whether you intend it to or not, and b) can expose raw nerves that should by all rights, never see the light of day.

as a person who seems to do a lot of talking, both as a matter of fact and as a matter of vocation, i find myself doing a lot of "self-editing", and even when i feel like i'm in safe territory, like with friends or family, i still try to be careful with my words. sometimes i do ok, and sometimes i set off fire alarms for 20 city blocks. sometimes i wonder what it would be like to take a silent retreat, and not talk to anybody for a week. i would probably talk to myself, anyway, and that's cheating. but that's really not the point of this post, not really.

and so, in a fashion that is mostly alien to myself and to this blog, i am choosing to rebutt. dear friend, upon who's fragile psyche my rapier wit and razor tongue seemed to tread too hard, read and consider what i secretly mean when i talk to you, when we drink beer, and when i avoid saying what i mean in order to protect my own psyche from overexposure...

i'll be honest with you. i'm kind of past the idea of heaven and hell and wondering what an afterlife looks like. frankly, i could care less. i don't think that it's fair for me to talk about being a Christian, being someone who cares about other people and cares about my relationship to God if all i'm doing is hedging my bets about whether i'll be thrown into a lake of fire or spend eternity eating heavenly bon-bons and plucking a harp. neither of those ideas sound very realistic. and i don't mean that heaven sounds like a bad deal--it doesn't. i just don't think our ideas about heaven and hell make a whole lot of sense. and to reiterate, i don't want to have a relationship with God in the here and now that's secretly about keeping my butt out of a sling when i die. that's really not much of a relationship, is it? i mean, it's like sucking up to your math teacher so she'll go easy on you during finals. you've got no investment in being nice to her outside of what it does for you. and that my friends, is what i like to call being an asshole.

i don't want to spend one more minute thinking about where i'm going to spend eternity. i do want to spend a lot of time thinking about how i'm serving God's purpose for me in this life, in this moment, to the people i work with and meet every day. that's real. that's concrete. the rest of it, hell, heaven, the immortal soul, ect. those are unknowns, and in the final analysis, i have no idea and no control over what is real and what is whistling in the dark. i can do right by people, i can follow my heart, i can say my prayers. that's really where the rubber meets the road. so yeah, maybe i am flip about hell and heaven. maybe it's because i have a really hard time believing in a God who preaches love and forgiveness and then condemns people to a hell that is utterly removed from love and forgiveness. seems like situational ethics, if you ask me. but what do i know? i still have trouble remembering not to yell at God about why i'm still single when i have to change light bulbs in my house by myself. it's just as bad to expect a pay off in this life for being a good soldier as it is to expect the same when i die. what can i say? it's an ongoing struggle for me with my Creator. i wish i had a better handle on it, but that's what i know today. it could all change tomorrow. i'm willing to be persuaded.

and as for eve, oh eve.

i have advocated your cause the best way i know how--i have tried to stay away from being the stereotype--the overly involved, overly emotional, overly made-up, overly curious, overly female female. eve, my sister and my mother, i remember you daily. i think the men give you more power than you really have. i think they make you into a villain, because it's easier than admitting that adam is as responsible for the apple as you are. don't forget, the old ways say you were adam's second wife, that he made the first one mad.

so, sister mine, with your fig leaves and lonely, much travailed childbirths, i will be your devil's advocate. suppose you had all the facts, suppose adam had informed you as he had been informed. would you still have picked the fruit? would you have shared the fruit? and what in the wide world did you say to adam to persuade him to eat of it? surely your eyes and lips and hair were no more beautiful or winsome that the faces of your daughters gathered at the mall, or starbucks, or central market? surely you were ordinary some days, even though you were the first.

am i to be damned and lumped in with you for all time because you acted on poor information, were beguiled by a creature with a cunning mouth and empty promises? and maybe, just maybe adam saw how easily you were sidetracked, and took a lesson from the serpent. and maybe that's why i and all your daughters have been on an endless quest for information, for integrity, to know what it looks like all the way down, all the way to the bottom of the rabbit hole, because one dreadful time we acted on poor information, and have been punished for all time. fool us once...and punish us forever. where in the hell were YOU? and who are you to criticize, adam and sons, for your transgression was made with FULL knowledge, mouth of God to ear of adam. you kept it for yourself, and dared to offer up blame when we acted outside that knowledge. and rather than call us out, you followed along. and allowed us to take the brunt of the punishment, rather than taking the accountability upon yourself.

but we are the ones who drive you crazy? no, no, our punishment was to be desirous of YOU, that YOU would rule over us, and that the products of that desire would cause us pain and break our hearts, to have enmity between our children and the enemy. you were only given a longer work day, harder work to do, and were still exalted as the crown of creation. and don't think for a minute that was because God didn't know what had really happened. you may have gotten of lightly in the first punishment, but there is something to be said for being your own comeuppance.

so go right ahead, son of adam. be bewildered. be amused. be frustrated. be utterly confused. blame sins of the mother on the hearts of the daughters--confine us to the fishbowl and tempt us with things that glitter and shine. and by all means, neglect to view your father with unveiled eyes. blindness is your prerogative and your choice, and sometimes, a willing muse.

and that's really about all i have to say about that, folks. vitrolic? maybe, but i think accounts are being settled, and something new is about to be born. easter is coming, and with it a deep and abiding sense of hope and renewal. i love spring. this time of year is so fertile and good. and on the wind, before the rain, i can smell green things. and i feel them inside my heart.

thanks for putting up with the random.

mil besos--rmg

holy geeze, kids

this has been one of those weeks in which every day has been monday--kind of like "groundhog day", only not really funny because it's not a movie. my to-do list, crafted with such precision and care has sat on my desk, almost untouched since monday. life just happens. the to-do list has served as a kind of reminder of that--more an indicator of what's not going to get done than anything else. and i spent monday night yelling at a group of 50-somethings who hired me, and tried to explain to them that they are not being great helps in this whole "ministry experience". i know it seems like the height of moxy to yell at a group of people who can fire you, but when a lady gets her belly full of people making suggestions, and then not helping out, a lady can get a little excited. i think maybe they picked up what i was putting down. we'll be hopeful, anyway.

i keep feeling all these feelings that just make me tired, more than anything. not the least of which is a combination between feeling grateful and feeling selfish. i feel like i'm struggling to keep my balance, most days. like today. i'm stuck between feeling glad to do my job, spending the day with one of my church ladies who's in the hospital, and feeling irritated that i'm getting stuff done on the house and missing a trip to the gym. i hate that. i wish i could settle on one way to feel. mostly, i wish i didn't feel like such a bitch for not being able to devote all my attention to my sick church lady. but if i concentrate too hard on how sick she is, i don't think i'll be able to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled.

my little lady is very sick. shit, let's be honest--she's dying. and she is teaching me about how to live, in her own way. she uses words like dignity and grace. she tells me about raising her three children, and what her life has been like. she tells such good stories. and she knows exactly what kind of barrel she's staring down. i hope i never have to be as brave as my little lady is being. it's not that i don't think i have it in me to be, just don't want to have to reach down that deep. it's scary to go that deep.

she's out of recovery now. i gotta run.

mil besos--rmg