Full moon, twice this month.
It glows through a hazy sky, a break between snows.
I’m part of the great wide expanse; higher up, mountains holding me close.
It feels too tall. The valley, too low.
What am I doing?
What were the chances of my ending up back here, really?
Happy New Year.
I’m supposed to be working on a talk for Sunday. I’m also supposed to be writing a toast for a friend’s wedding reception. But I just keep thinking about the past couple of days I spent with friends and family. Then I consider the past ten weeks I’ve been able to spend with these loved ones. I play a scene over and over in my head that hasn’t even happened yet, but will happen early Monday morning. It involves my mom and brother and the airport and, inevitably, tears. Gentle sobs catch in my throat now as I think of it.
Change is constant. Christ is constant, because he has endured all change, for all mankind. His birth and life and resurrection carved an example, forged a path for us to follow. A steady, strong, strenthening path. A clear, comforting, consistent path. It instills hope and fosters peace; it carries love. This love is unfailing; it inspires and uplifts and extends beyond mortal might. I’ve felt it especially here in Florida and from miles away. We are children of God. Stretched out still, Christ’s arm reaches down from the firmament and relieves my soul, teaching me all that I must do, so that I can grow from the change that awaits me, so I can continue to be grateful for friends and family who so ably and amply … love.
Merry Christmas, everyone.
not enough sleep
too much food
lots of laughter
not sufficient time
teasing
talking
television
treats
presents
presence
pie
prayer
mother
brother
other
celebration
if these are the cause
the aspirin can wait
It’s likely the animal shelter would be open tomorrow, but I wanted to be able to give Chicken and Pig as much of a chance for a loving home as possible by giving them as much time to be adored at the shelter by loving families. I held on to them as long as I could without compromising that window.
It would be cool for some kids to come out to their living room to find two very sweet bunnies waiting for them Christmas morning. That’s what I’m praying for.
I dropped them off today.
Pictures, video from the past couple of days. Nearly six years of memories tucked away in my mind. My heart. I’ll try to share.
I’ll stop for now. I’ve cried enough today.
I took this at a gift shop in St. Augustine this evening. My highly-esteemed librarian friend was also my personal tour guide through the historic district. It was pretty awesome.
Would you consider a bath with the devil rubber duckies?
lightning lashes
clouds clash
sheets splash
drops dash
hems … dampen
woolpacks whisper
whiteness wisps
flakes flip
souls skip
boots … crunch
I was somewhere
not the other
not in between
much better than nowhere
at all
Vodpod videos no longer available.
The Copelands are a prominent family in the church community in these parts, as are the Atkinses. The Jenkins family are also well-known, as are the Newtons. Anyone who has been a member for any length of time in any of the Jacksonville stakes of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the past 50 years has heard of these families. These families know each other. They grew up together; their kids went to the same school and church activities. They intersect with other families and strengthen their lines. Posterity continue to branch out over the region and across state or country boundaries. They’re legends. They’re saints. Our respect for them runs deep.
Today, we acknowledge one gone. A Newton. She left us on Thursday, suddenly.
I walked into a nearly packed chapel this morning. The building itself seemed to heave a sigh. We all were trying to understand how before Thursday she was with us, and now, she is without us for a season.
It was jarring to hear the obituary and wonder what it is like to be survived by your parents; to wonder if the parents at all question the fairness of this circumstance.
The front of the printed program indicates she’s only 10 days older than my mother.
My brother and I grew up with her kids. My mom taught her son in Primary. I’ve always admired her family, her temperament, her countenance and outlook on life. She has definitely helped keep the Newton legend alive.
We strive to rejoice constantly in God’s plan for us. We’ll see our loved ones again; we can be with our families forever. It truly is comforting to have that knowledge.
But, it certainly is okay to mourn her absence.
We miss you, Vicki.
She widened her eyes, then squinted.
A single point appeared from deep within the tunnel.
She stood near the middle of the platform, northbound side. Not too many people waited around her, just a few latenight commuters, a few awkward couples on midweek dates. She held her arms slightly away from her body. Her jeans clung to her legs and her back felt sticky underneath her lightweight t-shirt. Sweat pasted her hair to her forehead. The summer heat had seeped through the streets down into the tunnels, turning the underground maze into a giant steamroom. No one talked; no one held hands. Everything perspired.
Her heart raced.
The approaching train pushed hot air through the station. Its nearing, thunderous momentum shook the platform. The train’s lights grew larger and soon she saw its whole face. She saw the front windows; she saw the door you can’t open from the inside. She saw the driver. She took a deep breath.
She timed it.
She closed her eyes.
For a split second, her body stayed mid-air.
Silence surrounded her as the train slammed into her, punched that last breath from her lungs, bumping her forward a few feet before she fell onto the tracks.
She figured not to jump over the space between the rails, on the chance of the train passing over her and maybe even allowing her to survive. She tumbled and bounced between the rail nearest the platform and the far rail.
And, the third, high-voltage rail.
The brakes screeched. The train lurched. But she did not hear or feel this. She did not hear witness screams. She did not hear voices of loved ones in her mind or see flashes of friends’ faces. She did not smell her skin burn. She did not feel ribs crack or organs crush or limbs sever or her own breathing arrest; her own corpse, a tattered lump.
Her eyes fell open.
The other blog’s been active for all of two days and it’s getting heavier daily traffic than this one. You like the focus, eh? You like the character? Well, I guess I kind of like her, too. Sometimes I wish I could be her.
I registered for classes yesterday, and my beloved school wasted no time to tell me when tuition is due. Classes are going to be fun. I’m going to be reading and writing a lot.
The cold weather worries me a little bit. We’ve had a very mild winter, and I’m about to go where it freezes and snows and a fair amount of the student population don’t know how to drive in those conditions. I felt a lot safer in a walking culture.
Somebody just asked me if I missed New York City yet. I didn’t tell her that I’ve already wailed and rent my clothes. I have friends who will be there for the New Year. This is the first time in five years I won’t be there.
But, I will be in Provo. Bring out the noisemakers and confetti. Or, just take me skiing.
***
Happy Birthday, Sarah. Your age is double a prime number. And having seen you lately, I’d definitely say you’re doubly in your prime. Hope you had an amazing birthday.
A Little Thinking 