Houston in the Rain

Two weeks before Spring Break. Where has the time gone?

I am sitting at Colin and Chandra's (Evan's middle brother and sister-in-law's) house. I am sitting cross-legged staring out the window at the soft gray sky, wind-blown trees, and rain-spattered sidewalk. Annie is lying a few feet from me. Her body rises and falls as she sleeps off her hours of playtime with her cousin dog, Chester. Evan is taking a shower and preparing for a wedding today. Poor bride. The forecast says it will storm all day. The engadgement portraits have been cancelled, but Evan still has a bridal portrait, wedding ceremony, and reception to shoot.

Evan doesn't need me at this wedding since a videographer is going as well. So I will just play with dogs, maybe do schoolwork, maybe get dressed, and spend as much time with my 1 1/2 year old nephew as possible. I hadn't seen him since Christmas. He is running around and babbling up a storm. I will babysit him tonight while Colin and Chandra go to a party. I was just thinking how long it's been since I babysat a one-year-old.

The summer I was fourteen I babysat a one-year-old for the whole summer. It was for a family from my church in Carmel, Indiana. We watched the same Barney video every day. I certainly don't miss that. I do miss going out to the sidewalk with a bucket of water and a foam brush. Little Jordan would plunge his sponge (and whole hand) deep into the bucket and slather the sidewalk with cold water. Then he would watch the water dry up until it disappeared. I miss picking him up and running through the sprinkler until he shook with giggles. I miss him refusing to go to sleep because he'd rather hear me sing to him (I was practicing for my audition for a European tour with Indianapolis Children's Choir). One time, after I had gone for the day, and Jordan's mom was checking on him in his sleep, she heard him say, "Yes, Amy, yes." He was dreaming about me, his gangly, permed-haired babysitter.

I think today will be good. I love high school students. I really do. I love reading Mat's depressing song lyrics that rave about the inadequacies of the American Dream. I love hearing Michael and Andrew argue over who will get the best grade on their vocab quiz. I love seeing the relief on Mary's face when she hands in her research paper. She carries it like a fragile vase. She's afraid to breathe on it. Afraid it will catch fire and consume her hours of labor.

But I do miss the innocence of a one-year-old who doesn't understand divorce, the pressures of getting good grades and making his coach happy. Who doesn't need to be thin enough fast enough smart enough. Who can just be. Be loved for the act of living, discovering.

There is no place I'd rather be....than Houston in the rain.

Repercussions from my Thoughts

healing

we all want healing, don’t we?
want someone to cup their hands around our face
and breathe fresh blood into our veins
clarity into our tired eyes
softness into our hardened souls?

she wanted healing so much that she didn’t wait for his
touch
she touched him first on his cloak
that showed his place in society his class his family
the part of him she shouldn’t mustn’t touch but did
she the unclean touched the pure
white lamb of God
she that had lost everything
her blood and her bloodline
took more than his followers ever dared
the power from his body his focus from the crowd
she was noticed and called out with rage
by his followers
with love by him
He called her daughter and loved her by his
acceptance
He praised her for her courage
to touch his cloak
find her questions answered
He healed her

she wanted healing so much that she didn’t let the darkness
take over
she sought the darkness out with the light left
in her soul
she had to find a suffering worse than
her child’s death a sudden horror of a death
tumbling down the steps and to her feet in
an accident a tragedy
she lost everything but her belief
that others had lost more
He showed her the prostitutes with their bodies
pried open by gentlemen and doctors
who condemned them to a life
and death of shame
He gave her a journey to help these women
live in honor
die in peace
He called her and she responded to his
mercy
He healed her


Lord, I am not worthy

I do not dare to touch you
I fear to find others more needy
than myself

To receive you

But I must know you
Must feel this love
again

But only say the word

Call me daughter
Call me

And I will answer

And I shall be healed

Alone with my thoughts

This weekend Evan was gone to New Mexico for his grandpa's funeral. I stayed in San Antonio to catch up on sleep, try to get over this persistent cold, and take care of Annie. For the nearly 2 years we've been married, Evan and I have surprisingly spent little time apart. He went on a vertebrate field biology trip for a weekend last fall. I went to an educational conference and briefly visited my parents without him. He went to Jeff's wedding. And now this funeral.

It was strange with him gone. I realized for the first time in awhile I was alone with my thoughts. Between teaching and spending time with Evan and Annie, I don't tend to think much alone. Or whatever I think about on my drive to or from school comes out in conversation with Evan, family, or friends. I did talk to some family and friends on the phone, but all of my close friends/family here in San Antonio were out of town. I felt a little isolated. Not a bad thing or a good thing per se...just different.

I thought and I thought and I thought. And I did dishes and watched two movies and took Annie to the dog park. The dog park is usually overflowing with dogs, but not yesterday. The temperature had dropped to 40 degrees with a bitter wind. Which I know Grete will laugh at, but hey, it was in eighties here on Thursday. Evan made fun of me when I bought a new scarf and glove set with my Christmas money, but I've already worn them at least 3 times! I arrived at the park with coat, scarf, and gloves. I was sad to see that no one had braved the cold, but I chased Annie around nonetheless.

I paused to sit at a bench and curl my feet up towards my body. The sight of my huddled body drew a honk from a truck whizzing past. I was a little startled. The park is not in a bad area of town, but it is secluded since it is next to an Air Force Base and park of a larger city park but has no residential development. I began to wonder if anyone would stop and bother me. Just then a dark sedan with tinted windows pulled into the parking lot. Now most times, you can see dogs' heads poking out of windows or bobbing up and down in the bed of a truck, but I could see nothing. I got a little nervous, wishing I hadn't decided to stay at the park all alone with my dog. But the park is a good 30 min. away from our apartment. Then I started wondering how weird it would be if someone did show up with their dog--but it was a guy. Just a guy and me and our dogs. How awkward.

Then it happened. A girl...woman, I guess, about my age or a little older, climbed from the car holding the cutest weimeraner puppy. An older man followed her. When they entered the park, Annie ran up in excitement to nose little Lexi, a puppy just her size (though 3 months younger). What followed was Annie's best play experience to date. Annie and Lexi ran, wrestled, and frolicked for a good 45 min. until her owner (Chris), Chris' dad, and I could not take the cold any longer. Another weird thing: I found out Chris is also a teacher but at an innercity public school.

So why have I written so much about so little? I don't know. It just was an incident that made me think. I made waffles this weekend. I went to church by myself and had to talk to people I don't usually talk to--because I have Evan. I watched movies Evan might have--um, would have--laughed at. I am so blessed to have Evan, so blessed to have my job. But sometimes I guess I need to just be. And I did.

Whoops

Apparently, it wasn't mountain cedar. It was a virus. Now Evan has it. Whoops. As he so aptly pointed out, allergies aren't contagious. I don't know....mountain cedar seems pretty powerful.

Life lately:
-Went to an Episcopal "Girls' Night Out" with the ladies from my church. Let's just say I was the only "girl" there, and the woman closest to my age was in her forties. But I had a great time drinking mimosa (yum!), eating cheesecake, and talking.

-Need a break from schoool (as usual). Teaching my sophomores how to write a research paper is a headache. But I did teach my favorite Flannery O'Conner story ("Parker's Back") to my juniors. I have to fill out a "letter of intent" for the school by Wednesday. I think I would like to come back, despite my qualms about teaching in general. I need a second year. I need to feel appreciated. And right now I do. The administration has told me they would cut me back to two preparations. That would be so nice.

-Took Annie to the dog park today. She's 30 pounds now! Unbelievable! We see the coolest breeds there. She played (aka was beaten up) by a Rhodesian Ridgeback. We also saw a huge Rotti named Zeus, a Great Pyrannese, two Great Danes, lots of pit bulls and boxers, etc.

Love to my friends who I think read this blog but don't post a response. Ah, how we lurk.

The Ten-Year Gauntlet

I have met my match. It is called mountain cedar. Apparently, it's the spawn of Satan for anyone remotely allergic. I had made such headway in my allergies, "grown out of them" as my old allergist once told me. I managed what little sneezing tendencies I had towards mites and mold with a friendly Claritin look-alike.

Until this Texas winter. My eyes run, my nose runs, my head hurts, my back hurts. I go to school, come home and crash for two hours, get up and grade/plan until 11:30 pm, get up at 5:30 am and do it all over again. Everyone is sympathetic. "It lasts for about 10 years," they say. "And then you'll become immune." 10 years? Are you kidding me? I'll take some snow about now. Anything cold to lay against my raw, red nose.

I was going to write about serious matters as well, but that should be done when the writer is calm and rational (or in a rage of brilliance.) I, on the other hand, am just whiny. I will follow this up soon with something a little less...self-absorbed.