"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent...Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for me. "

- John Donne

Put me in coach, I'm ready to play....

For those of you who know me well, it would come as no shock to you that I normally don't participate in athletic games. That whenever a group soccer, softball, or whatever game is going on, I tend to the one keeping score, encouraging from the sidelines, or tending to the wounded. If you don't know me well then let me explain I do this is for many reasons: 1. I am incredibly unathletic and am more of a handicap than an asset. 2. I am a perfectionist, so unless I'm going to be great at it, I don't want to play. and 3. I fear being laughed at or ridiculed or some other variant of those. So usually I just cheer from the sidelines avoiding all chance of injury, embarassement, or failure.

Well last night that changed. I was hanging out with some friends and they decided to play at game called "Tidball." "Tidball" is kind of a free for all game loosely based on tennis and soccer and played on a tennis course. And for some strange reason, rather than watching, I participated. I kicked, I ran, I served, I played! Of course, I fell on my butt, got scraped up, and earned some pretty amazing bruises, but I played. Not only did I play, but I didn't totally screw it all up (which I know some of you would categorize as a minor miracle). And it felt great! I love the fact that I fell on my behind and got right back up and kept playing. I loved the fact that I took the chance to serve barefoot, and while it has permantly turned my foot red, it made it over the net! And no, I wasn't perfect, but it simply felt great to play, to participate, to be involved.

I kind of feel like this is very symbolic for where I am in life right now. I feel like I am sitting on the sideline. Cheering, encouraging, tending the wounded, but never stepping out onto the field. Never taking the risks, never participating in the game. That, metaphorically, I'm afraid to run after the ball, take a chance and serve, or block a pass if it means I embarras myself. I've sort of become content to sit on the bench and watch the game play on without me. I stay in the place that is very safe and secure for me. That doesn't push me outside of my box, challenge me to go beyond what I'm comfortable with. To quote Relient K, "I"m stuck inside this rut, I fell into by mistake."

But I don't want to do that any more. Because even with the bruises and scrapes and slightly wounded ego, it felt amazing to participate and play. It felt great to go for it and risk it and try something new and different. And I want to feel that in life again. I want to laugh and cry and be scared and excited and to fall and get up again.

I want to step back out there into the game, knowing that there will be risks, and failures, and stupid mistakes, and messiness, and bruises. But there will also be laughter, and success, and happiness, and chances to grow, and healing.

I want to play again. I want to participate. I want to go after all the things I want even if I don't get them all. I want to scare myself to death with the things I decide to try. I want to really risk something. I want to do something even if it turns out to be the wrong something. I want to know I've tried. I want to live.

"All people have stars, but they aren't the same. For travelers, the stars are guides. For other people, they're nothing but tiny lights. And for still others, for scholars, they're problems. For businessman, they were gold... You, though, you'll have stars like nobody else."

-Antoine de Saint-Exupery

The Little Prince

I've always be fascinated by time and space. For a long time, I wanted to be an astronaut. So its not surprising that God often uses things like the sun, moon, and stars to reveal things to me. (it sounds a bit pompous to say that God "reveals" things to me, but I simply mean He uses them as tools to get through to my stubborn self some lesson that I need to learn.)

Lately I've been ending every night sitting on my back porch watching the stars. Now, that's one thing I can say for the country living I've been experiencing- the stars are beautiful and bright and shine with an undiluted light in the country sky. Its an amazing experience.

I can't remember where I heard this, but somewhere along the way I learned that the star lights that we see in the sky actually is the light from stars that died thousands of years ago. That the light of stars that are living right now won't be visible to us for a thousand more years or so.

I get so caught up with instant gratification in life. I like to see the results of my actions, of my efforts soon after I've worked for them. (thus the obsession with vacuuming- instant results!) Its hard for me to swallow that often the work we do today, are planting seeds or shedding light that won't be seen for many many years. Maybe not even in our lifetimes.

I think I worry that the light of my efforts won't ever be seen. That if I can't see it now, how am I to be assured that something will actually come of it? I think deep down we all struggle with the age old questions: Does my life really matter? Will I leave my mark? Will my light outshine my lifespan? Does my life even matter NOW? Am I making a difference TODAY?

The stars aren't seen in their lifetime. Only after the star has been dead and gone and stopped really giving off light, is that light actually visible to us here on earth. But yet, the star lives its life, continues to burn with faith that someday their light will be seen.

I want to strive to be more like the stars. Living my life regardless of whether anyone sees the light of it in this moment or not. Just do my best to shine, knowing that someday, somewhere, the light of my life might be visible. Even if just to one person.

Now that I've recuperated from the craziness of the Easter season, I've actually had a few moments to consider what Easter is. What is means for me and what it brings to my life (kind of a shame that its only after Easter that I truly have time to celebrate it).



On a blog I read (Stuff Christians Life- http://stufffchristianslike.blogspot.com/) he asked people to finish this sentence: Easter is: _______________.

For me: Easter is something that (only because of the first Easter) can happen again and again and again.

Because death was conquered by Life on that first Easter, we have the power through Christ to conquer death in our own lives.

Every time a broken heart is comforted and the pain is lessened, that is an Easter.
Every time a fear is conquered and courage is found, that is an Easter.
Every time a numbed person starts to feel life again, that is an Easter.
Every time a broken community finds reconciliation, that is an Easter.
Every time despair is replaced with hope, that is Easter.
Every time a goodbye is said so a hello can happen, that is Easter.

Because of the amazing power and Love of the first Easter, we get to be an Easter people. Experiencing the new life and hope of Easter in many ways everyday.

Christ is risen! Indeed.

You hear people talk about Good Friday. You hear people talk about Maundy Thursday. And obviously, people talk about Easter Sunday. But no one ever says anything about Saturday. No one ever talks about what happens between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.

Probably because it had to be the worst day ever and there is nothing in it which to celebrate. Jesus is dead. Buried. And in the tomb. This is not a day where He died on the cross for us (which is only really powerful in reference to the Resurrection). This is not a day where the tomb is empty. This is the after everyone had betrayed Him, mocked Him, killed Him, and buried Him. This is the aftermath of that. This is the day where people who believed He was the Messiah tried to resolve themselves to His death. This is the day where His beloved disciples and family tried to figure out what His death meant in light of everything they knew to be True about Him. This was a day- seemingly- without hope.

In the old hymn, "Were you there?" one of the verses goes "Were you there when the sun refused to shine?" This is that verse. Saturday is that day. The day without Sun. Or Son. The day without hope. The day of defeat. The day with no redemption. Where the awfulness of Christ's death on the cross was real. And final. And so true.

Can you imagine living in that Saturday? Can you imagine living, even just for 24 hours, in a world without hope? Without promise of redemption? Can you imagine what it must have felt like to be TRULY hopeless.

I don't even dare....because I think it would be too awful.

How amazing is it that, we don't live in Saturday? We don't dwell in a world where the Sun refuses to shine. We may say that we feel hopeless, but truly, we are never really hopeless.

So when you feel down, and out, and like you are at the end of it all, and the world is black, and you feel abandoned. Remember that Saturday- remember the despair of that day. And hold out.

Beacsue the Son rose that next morning.

My mother is moving and therefore going through all my old school work and found my first work of poetry ever and I've decided to share it with you:

"Roses, violets, daffodils too.

Some day Kelly's wishes will come true."

1991, age 7

...hopefully I've improved a little since age 7....