3am thoughts & threads
I called you were gone someone else called you; it wasn’t me last Saturday, I was busy I forgot to call you every Saturday, I think it’s been a while time to see you soon i call you ... just to listen to you laugh, hear about your day Reverse Poem for EN 111, Fall... Continue Reading →
“…We may be Indian, but by God we ain't dirty!” (Pember 16) The author, Mary Annette Pember, is quoting her mother, a survivor of St. Mary's Indian Boarding School (Odanah), located on the Bad River Reservation and run by the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration. She is referencing her mother's obsessive compulsion to clean and... Continue Reading →
I never got what I asked for. When I visited that fake fat guy in the red suit at the downtown Herpolsheimer’s, he didn’t even recognize my brother and me from our visit last year. We took a photo of us sitting on his lap anyway.
I still have WTF moments, though now I see myself as a person who feels things deeply, including compassion, empathy, and passion.
In my life, the Church is similar to the horror and beauty of Frida Kahlo. It is the beauty of a preserved saint, the architectural beauty of the basilicas and cathedrals of stone and glass, and it is also a pain in my heart that I am reconciling.
I was sweating, my heart was racing, and I could barely breathe. I hurried to the girls’ bathroom and ended up staying there for that whole period. Each time we were supposed to write and then perform another speech, it became easier to skip class.
But somehow, taking those beautiful notebooks, writing a person's prayer request, and then praying over the book seems not only a prayer, but an act of beauty out of love for God. That difficulty makes the writing itself part of the prayer—each and every word takes effort, and that effort itself is an offering.
First stop of our day is the Sephardic Jewish Foundation. Javier tells me that we have history waiting for discovery... My grandfather leans over, his whiskers tickling my ear, whispering, 'I remember my own grandmother lighting candles every Friday night before dinner, quietly praying. Always quietly, as if no one should hear her words but God.'
I. Torrential rains pour through dilapidated unintended sky lights The tornado warning sirens blare Waters rise and the Lifeboat we bought has floated away. The tornado missed the house… or did it? It’s over I say. Good-bye. II. The dream is different this time instead the Sun casts streams of hope through darkened skies, filled... Continue Reading →
Looking back, I realize that water has been one of the few constants throughout my life. I no longer swim due to disability, but the view of water every single day somehow comforts me. Water is still my companion.
