How is it that we can look suffering in the face and continue to live as though it didn't pierce our souls?
Today I sat crying in the chapel again. Nothing new there... only this time, Jesus said, "Liz, I want you to learn to walk with a broken heart. Don't pretend that it's not broken, or ask me to heal it. I want you to live a broken life that cries out in the darkness for something more. That's the only way I can bring life to your soul. Let the wound stay unhealed."
I can't live as though suffering doesn't touch the very core of who I am. I realized that walking with a broken heart takes more courage and strength than binding up the wounds and walking as though I've got it together - as if my heart isn't broken. I realized today that walking with a broken heart means letting God have my bloody wounded heart for his own. That I can't fix it, I can't put myself back together again, and I don't want to anymore.
I don't want to lose myself in a lie. The lie that says I can get it together, I can heal my broken heart, and I can smile while I'm at it.
I've never had the courage to be that broken. I think I've tried every once in a while - but the power of my own broken heart scares me.
But I don't want to live on the surface of my soul.
Jesus, help me walk with a broken heart... I stand unhealed.

23 Columbian soldiers dead in a Black Hawk helicopter crash. Before I read the article, I thought American soldiers had died. I was strangely relieved when I read that they were Columbian. I can't excuse that tendency in myself. I can't ignore it either, and that's the problem.

Well, this morning all I forgot was my lunch. :-)

I'm leaving for Las Vegas to see my sisters this weekend... and I'm wondering what's going to happen. I'm excited and nervous and impatient... It's the first time we've been together in a while. Do you ever a gut feeling that something wonderful is going to happen? That's what I've got. Honestly? My older sister has always wanted to fix me up - with a guy, a new hairstyle, a new diet, a new dream, anything :-). And I've always taken it in stride - she doesn't know what kind of man to choose for me, I don't do my hair anyway, I like food, and my dreams don't register on her radar as actual dreams :-). We've always had a blast together, but we are POLAR opposites in so many ways. She's funny and 'well-connected' - wears BeBe suits and drives nice cars - I own a Ford Contour. She's a businesswoman - I'm a nerd :-).
Even though I can't see it sometimes - we're definitely made of the same stuff - we love to run in the snow, get up early and curl up in a rocking chair with a book, talk on our cell phones, have the same weird wrinkle in between our eyebrows from concentrating, and we have this warped sense of humor that only Falks understand.
I guess I'm wondering how we are going to connect. Sometimes we tend to miss eachother - like two ships passing (or crashing) in the night :-). I dunno... Sometimes I wish I understood her...
I know we'll have fun. But I want more than that for this trip. I'd actually like to find out more - get beyond the sharp suits and nice cars, perfect conversations and witty replies - I know she's there.
So - I'm off... to see Vegas and more. If I don't come back - you can assume I've lost my shirt at the casino or I've eloped... wish me luck.

Outside it's raining cool drops everywhere (everywhere)...
This morning I was rushing around, listening to NPR while at the same time applying lipstick and putting on pantyhose...
grabbing bags and phone... out the door whoops raining grab the jacket and umbrella (c'mon silly door, close already - I'm almost late!) then suddenly...
I have no keys in my hand. My car sits in front of me down the porch steps... but I have no keys. I have an umbrella, a jacket, a phone, a gym bag, a work bag... what more could a girl want? Keys.
My keys sat laughing at me - locked inside my empty house on the table. Right next to the door that I just slammed so decisively. (Don't laugh! I have to go to work. You're not indispensible... I can have you duplicated.) I looked at my car longingly for a moment - opened my umbrella - and walked off the porch into the grey morning.

It's really freeing when you realize you have no choice. I started making my way to work through the rain... and I started remembering... I used to walk to school every day. I gloried in the fact that today my Mom couldn't make me wear rain boots; I could ruin my Nine West shoes if I wanted to. I missed walking with my sisters... but the quiet was so restful. The rain always hushes the world.

The funny thing is, this is the second time I've locked my keys in the house. Sometimes I wonder what I'll do next... It's always entertaining at the least... and usually it reminds me to slow down, look up, and laugh. Every once in a while - I fall off my porch, or run into a pole, or a fire hydrant, or a desk, or a tree. Sometimes I drop big glass jars of canned goods on the kitchen floor. It's always better when more people are involved - then I have someone to laugh with.

I continually humble myself - and God blesses my absent-minded soul with walks in the rain.
So Keys: Laugh all you want... but I'm fairly certain that you'll have the chance to laugh again and again and again and...

(Surprise! Right after I left the computer yesterday - I walked to the gym to work out and... I forgot to pack socks. I had to run sockless... then walk home sockless in the rain.) Oh me Oh life... :)

At 4:30am, against the setting of a foggy grey dawn on Sunset Blvd. - one boy died and one boy lived. As Ryan sits alive - Mark lies cold.
It is another day on earth, and my heart is screaming in pain.
Why is it that each day goes by and life ends and begins and we still don't get it? WE ARE WEAK and FRAGILE.
This boy is dead. But not gone forever. He is still here, breathing in silence - waiting for eternity.
I can feel his presence...
waiting watching wanting

His parents are on their way to town. They thought they were coming to spend a weekend with Mark. Mark is here... waiting in the foggy dawn for eternity...
They will wait and watch - the house down the block from mine is filled... people are spilling out onto the lawn - wanting to touch something - waiting for someone.
It's the house where Ryan sits alive.

Look, the thing is - Mark was drunk this morning. We think Ryan was too. We are waiting, wanting to know why. I want to hold Mark - and tell him everything will be alright, that he'll sleep well tonight - that his parents will be strong - that no one will be left hurt...
...I can't hold him, I have to let him go - he's waiting for eternity to begin.
...I can't tell him everything will be alright - his body lies cold, his ears are tuned to another voice.
...I can't promise he'll sleep well tonight - he'll lie awake while the rest of us try to sleep.
...I can't say that his parents will be strong - they will want him back.

I want him back - I want him back...

(He was never ours.)

Ryan - I want to hold you and tell you everything will be alright - I want you to know that you are a gift... and that each moment of you means everything...
I want you to rest in greater Arms than mine... you are not yours to give... you are not ours to have...

I want to write this down... I'm so used to paper...

...curled up in chapel reading the agony in the garden and the trial before pontius pilate - tears streaming down my face - I realize that the agony in my heart is a treacherous lament... For what should be perfect love.

...He never stood trial against Pilate... and neither will I... One court... and only there will I submit to the trial...

...Crucified? Bloody? I go boldly. fearfully.
I am not Him - but He is in me.

Looking... for something... complete uncertainty
starving and knowing the hunger comes from somewhere - so I keep looking around expecting to find my own image when in reality my own image is something I don't fully own.
I wonder if I could be seeing something so large in myself that I keep looking up and down and through this seeming prism - pulled in all directions as the light jumps from windowpane to doorway - I catch glimpses of pure reflection. Is it me or something more?
the silence tells me more... and I wait.