pphbbtht

or something like that...

i was going to post an excerpt from an anne lamott story called "mountain birthday." but it's in traveling mercies, and out of all my anne lamott books, that's the one i have the hardest time finding....because i either take it somewhere weird to read or i lend it out and have to go get a new copy. so i'm going to put in these lines i've underline from a story called "kookaburra" from her newest book, grace eventually...

I've always believed that there was a certain age after which I would be all well and I'd stop feeling as if I'd been abandoned here on earth with no explanation.

The gist of the story is that faith and grace will not look as they do in Bible stories, will not involve angels, flames, or harps. Disaster usually happens for me when everything I have counted on has stopped working, including all of my best skills, intentions, and good ideas. I overreact or shut down, then torture myself about what a fraud I am, like Kookaburra's bitter aunt Esther, in the branches of the old gum tree, pretending to sing the laughing song of the other but privately stewing. Usually there is something I can't climb over, all the tools and stepladders have broken, and no one is around to give me a leg up. No one comes along to say, "I'll haul you up, little lady." Some pitiful thing appears or occurs, entirely inadequate to help shift this grim situation, and it can't possibly be enough, but then it is.

If God has all the power and I've bravely shined so many flashlights into these dark corners, why doesn't God let me get well?

Finally I thought of one true thing, which is that sometimes I act just as juvenile as I ever did, but as I get older, I do it for shorter periods of time.

She did not say much, but let me get my guck into the air, so it was no longer in the anaerobic rat chamber of my mind. And as I told her my bleak and embarrassing story, it felt like dirty clothes. I'd been trying to wash and dry it inside myself, in my embarrassed mind, which doesn't really make much sense, laundry-wise. When you hang things outside, they get air, warmth, light; and you see that even with the stains and frayed collar, the garment has kept you covered and warm for a long time.

i am guessing those lines come across as rather disjointed if you've never read the story. it's a story about faith fair, an event she leads at her church, and the year she was offended and slightly enraged and motivated to get a little nasty in email when she was asked to provide receipts for the things she'd purchased. it's quite a hilarious story that leads me down a path to a truth in myself, yet does it in a way that i can actually look at myself and stand it.

well, THEN i was going to post an indigo girls video of a song called all that we let in...but i couldn't find a video...so here are the lyrics...

Oooooooo
Oooooooo
Oooooooo

Dust in our eyes our own boots kicked up
Heartsick we nursed along the way we picked up
You may not see it when it's sticking to your skin
But we're better off for all that we let in

Lost friends and loved ones much too young
So much promises and work left undone
When all that guards us is a single centerline
And the brutal crossing over when it's time

Oooooooo
(I don't know where it all begins)
Oooooooo
(And I don't know where it all will end)
Oooooooo
(We're better off for all that we let in)

One day those toughies will be withered up and bent
The father son the holy warriors and the president
With glory days of put up dukes for all the world to see
Beaten into submission in the name of the free

We're in a revolution I have heard it said
Everyone's so busy now but do we move ahead
The planets hurting and atoms splitting
And a sweater for your love you sit there knitting

Oooooooo
(I don't know where it all begins)
Oooooooo
(And I don't know where it all will end)
Oooooooo
(We're better off for all that we let in)

See those crosses on the side of the road
Tied with ribbons in the medium
They make me grateful I can go this far
Lay me down and never wake me up again

Kat writes a poem and she sticks it on my truck
We don't believe in war and we don't believe in luck
The birds were calling to her what were they saying
As the gate blew open the tops of the trees were swaying

I've passed the cemetery walk my dog down there
I read the names in stone and say a silent prayer
When I get home you're cooking supper on the stove
And the greatest gift of life is to know love

Oooooooo
(I don't know where it all begins)
Oooooooo
(And I don't know where it all will end)
Oooooooo
(We're better off for all that we let in)

so there...that's mostly what i was wanting to say today. (and for the record, i think those oooo's at the beginning of the song really set it up well...hehe...why would they add that? in case you don't know what she's saying?...)

i will be out of town today and not back until late tonight. then tomorrow, i've invited a group of mamas over in the evening... yeah, yeah, left foot, right foot...peace