Burps and Bursts

Sometimes my heart does this thing where it beats really fast and I think that the extremities of my body - my fingers and toes; hands; for some reason, my calf muscles - they feel like they want to rip themselves away from the tendons and bones they're attached to and my heart is going to fall out of place and I’m going to burst. 

Yeah, sometimes that happens.

And when that does happen, I know it’s something important - something nerve wracking or joyous or so exciting that my body doesn't know any other way to respond.

It's in those nervous moments where I stare into your eyes - but really, I'm staring at my shaking fingers and the sky and the cars driving by or the green picnic table - my heart beats. And beats and beats and beats. And it keeps on beating until you call me out, telling me that I'm avoiding the question at hand; laughing when I tell you that I think the burps are becoming a kind of nervous tick. It beats as I tell you I like you and when I tell you that I feel comfortable with you and when I tell you I'm sorry for screwing up and when I tell you I love you.

It beats and beats and beats.

And when I find myself in these moments of excitement, I am so freaking excited. For a second, words stop flowing... And I stumble over the ones that do come because I can not even begin to express what I'm feeling. Then, at a certain point, my brain flips a switch, and words just keep coming and coming, trying to express. But these words are not enough to say that I am happy, excited, joyful, supportive, grateful, freaking pumped as you get ready to ask her. The beating and beating and beating pounds in my chest and I have to stop eating, partially because I was already getting full but I am also afraid I might choke on food because I can hardly function at this point. So I burp, and you can tell I’m excited now.

It beats and beats and beats.

This all might sound ridiculous, but honestly, this is one of my favorite feelings. And people who hear this probably wonder “why in the world do you love the feeling of your fingers ripping themselves away from your body?”

I'd say it's because I love. I love to love these people and I love to think that maybe I’ve been blessed with this privilege of sharing in what they feel. Maybe, just maybe you're nervous too but I can't tell because you don't start burping uncontrollably like I do. And I know my excitement is just a fraction of what yours is right now, but I am honored to share in that feeling with you and burp because of it.

We love because we care. And when my heart beats and beats and beats and beats - beats - beats, it's that moment when I couldn't care more. There's this connection in these moments; there is a sharing of life in these moments; there is a kind of love in these moments -

And in this love, I burp and burst.

And I love it.

Response

Life is uncomfortable

and that’s just it.

You don’t run away from life,

you have to run into it.

Like we sing -

Give me faith to trust 

what You say

You’re good and Your love is great

I’m broken,

but I’m Yours.

Life is uncomfortable

but here we go.

Glory

Breathe deep

     feel the rush of air -

fresh, carbon-polluted, pollen-filled air -

     traveling down into your chest

filling your lungs

     expanding your rib cage

shooting pain through your third and fourth rib

     right above your heart

Breathe deep

     while the music plays in your white earbuds and your feet -

size 13, boat-like, long toed feet -

     slap the pavement in your

adidas running shoes

     that aren’t quite wide enough

so the tips of your toes

     begin to ache and burn

Breathe deep

     when your body -

6’3”, 180 pound, fleshy body -

     begins to burn

in all the right places

     like your thighs; your calves;

that spot where your shoulder blade sticks out of your back

     and your arms continue to pump 

and your legs continue the monotonous motion:

     left, right; left, right

Breathe deep

     as you finish -

glorious, wonderful, disgusting finish -

     and stumble up the front steps

into your home,

     to your bedroom, bathroom, shower

where the intentional lukewarm water

     falls over your naked, sweaty body

allowing the recovery process

     to begin

Breathe deep

     then.

In, out; in and out

     and realize the glory;

to the glory of God

     Breathe deep.

Cast

I remember the hot August afternoon on the playground when you fell.

My heavy breathing as I ran, yelling

“Mrs. Owens, Mrs. Owens! Come quick!”

Your cast, covered in our juvenile kindergarten chicken scratch,

Ran up your arm almost to the elbow.

I think you probably took pride in that cast.

It made you different.

And I think that somewhere inside my five-year old self,

I wanted to have a cast.

I wanted to be different, just like you.

And almost two decades later, I’ve realized that want I had -

That want to feel different; the need to feel different.

Where is my cast?

Where is my different?

Where do I fit in so that I can stand out, so that I can feel just the littlest bit of importance,

Because it has come to seem that we are not all special.

We aren’t different. We aren’t unique.

We are a product;

The combined efforts of everybody we come into contact with.

We are the same.

I can accept that.

But I have to say, I remember when I found out you were leaving.

I remember seeing pictures of you after you had gone and thinking

“Thank goodness we are so different.”

I was so glad that you were gone;

That I no longer had to compare myself to you and your standards

Because in the end, even in our sameness,

We are different.

And I don’t need your cast to prove that.

Poetry Needs a Hand

Based on a Ruth Forman poem

Poetry needs a hand

When it trips and stumbles

Up the set of stairs,

Papers floating down, down, down

While people stroll by,

Too absorbed with

Their iPods and cell phones

Too notice what is

Really around them.

Poetry needs a hand

When it sits at a

Table with piles of things;

Lists, books, binders and papers,

Swallowing everything,

And if only there were

A hand to bring some relief.

Poetry, lend a hand

To the mother who raises

Three kids and works two jobs.

To the young man,

Struggling to see

Why things are the way they are.

To help the world know

That we are a society

Of change. Change that

Brings forth the good

No matter what.

Rain-clad

The heavens opened and rain poured forth

My soul jumping like a young child

Come, come and play

We run and run until our bodies are soaked

Clothes

Skin

Hair

Soul

And the sky burns a wondrous flame

As the gray matter clouds begin to leave

And I am content with this rain-clad evening.

An Idea of Faith

I run toward you in pain

Searching for something to ease this hurt,

This frustration,

This disbelief,

This doubt.

This doubt in you as to why things are the way they are.

Why aren’t they fixed?

Why is nothing happening?

Why does the world seem so static?

So unready to change and renew,

To give new life to those who need it,

Desire it,

Seek it,

Welcome it.

This world is an evil place

Marked by evil things and evil deeds.

And while I struggle to see the good that is ever present,

This is where I find my faith,

My hope,

My love.

For I know that in my doubt there exists belief;

A belief that tells me that all will be well,

That in time, I will see light and understand just what is in store.

That I don’t need to totally understand to welcome the truth.

That all I need to know is you.

That although this doubt exists, my belief will always win.