loving the sawah wynn

today i want to talk about my friend sarah lynn.



i met sarah lynn at a bonfire and the first thing i noticed was that her shirt was cut very low. which was a nice change because up to that point i'd been thinking that my shirt made me look fat.



the second thing i noticed was that she was sidling shamelessly up to one of the guys. which was also nice because it was better than thinking about the guy on the other side of the fire who i wanted to sidle up to, but i had too much pride. (not the good kind of pride that says "i don't have to act up to get some one else's attention, i'm enough just as i am." it was the kind of pride that said "if i tried to act up i'd just look foolish, and no matter what i mustn't look foolish.")



the next time i saw her i noticed that she had a very short skirt on, and i got to feel smug again because my skirt was much longer. i'm not sure what i would've gotten to think had i been wearing one of my short skirts, but that's neither here nor there.



the funny part is that i should've felt better noticing all of her flaws in comparisson to my own presumably less sinful state. i found an awful lot of them - you generally can if you're looking. instead i kept feeling worse and worse. i noticed my tummy more, and my weak chin, and without getting too specific it should be noted that my upper body is designed in such a way that would render the wearing of a low cut shirt an exercise in futility.



but, since everybody else liked her, i had to act like i liked her too - otherwise somebody might think that i was petty. or judgemental. or snide. or jealous. or just plain mean-spirited.



the problem with sarah lynn (other than her disgusting ability to fill out a blouse, which i think is horribly unfair of her) is that she works with special needs children. in my book, that's just showing off. and she tells boys when she likes them in a non-threatening and mature sort of way. well, she did once anyway, and for some things, once is enough. and also, she's nice to everybody. everybody. how rude.



anyway, our Father must've decided at some point that He'd had enough though, because one day i discovered that i actually liked her. i guess i should tell you about some awakening experience when i came face to face with my black little heart, but that's not what happened. which is good, because if i had i'd probably still be mired in self-contempt. this time He didn't do it directly (He's sneaky that way).



instead He moved me in baby steps to a place where i cold see past my insecurities to how amazing she really is. so loving sarah lynn is a little bit like loving God - i know she loves me back even though i don't deserve it.

train wreck

can't change course and can't slow down
progression towards the inevitable
   marked by signs
   screaming "bridge out ahead"
but the track keeps going
   and so do i
while some demented engineer shovels coal
   faster and faster.
   (should've fired him years ago.)

the fall.

the crash.

and you're calling me

hopes, desires, dreams scattered in the snow
   like so many passengers
   broken or burning or both.

stumble to my feet,
   bleeding but breathing
   blinded by smoke
   feeling my way towards light

baggage stored away
   but not thrown away
   scattered like landmines amid the debris
   trips me, brings me to my knees

and you're calling me.

and i know, if i follow the sound of your voice,
i won't trip again
   (no more blood in the snow)
i'll escape the wreckage
   (no more smoke in my eyes)
i'll be warm, and safe
   (no more wolves howling over freezing winds)

but the burning debris is also warm
if i stop
   just this once
   just for a moment
   just a step out of the way
i'll be warm
i can salvage something
   some of that baggage
   carry it with me

and you're calling me.
   fainter now
   i've stopped listening
   i hear movement
i can save something
   i'll find you later
   i have a train to repair