Yucky.

I got entitled.

I had a great, simple, didn't really do anything but call people flip phone for three years. And then I got a snazzy, slides sideways and has a nice keyboard phone that could do picture messages and had nice chat bubbles for text messages in slick colors phone. For two months.

And then just Sunday I ordered a new phone because of problems with the old company. I think it is even more in the dark ages than my first phone. And I'm disappointed in it, so I'm disappointed in myself. When did I get attached to this piece of plastic anyway? It's for communication, not aesthetics.

So I confess. I became entitled. 'Tis a yucky feeling indeed.

Peachy-keen, Nadine.

This is summer. I like being raw on Facebook. I also like sharing the beauty of life, cause we all need more of that. Tonight though, I keep it for my blog, for my heart, for my fingers. First is roasted chicken and vegetables on the deck. Lime in our ice water under a tired blue sky, hot hot hot. Then later, as sweat drips down my face from simply sitting in my room (with windows open) a storm erupts. Oh, joyous day! I watch it on the porch with my mama and our friend who is eleven. The temperature drops twenty-three degrees. The sun sets into glorious lightening that lights up the sky into day. Our friend’s dad comes to pick her up and we smash four sets of arms and legs onto an already soaked blanket. I cut up two almost ripe peaches and we eat them while the wind sprays cool water in our faces.

And then they leave and I sing HOLY SPIRIT RAIN DOWN and hold out my empty peach bowl for filling with the rain. Beauty. Delicious. Peachy.

I am Africa: a Half Poem in Figuratives

In this room I am Africa.
A continent all my own,
unique in my particularities
and systems. She is Asia
and her systems
do not match mine.

But we are the same because
we breathe the same,
we each respond in boundless rhythms
to the sun,
and springtime tastes of sweet
rain and child laughter
in both our souls.

And the stars which dance above
our skies echo
a dawn that has travelled night
to be found by our edges.

My systems are strong,
hers slick,
I drink of the well,
she drinks of the sea,
these are our hours,
tidy and chaotic,
organisms categorized in time
that does not pass.

My friend,
I am Africa,
unique in my particulars.

I am a recovering people pleaser.

I will not longer be apologetic.
I will be unapologetic about my status, about my job, about my degree, about my ideas.
I will be unapologetic about not knowing, about being young.

I will no longer apologize if I do not fit into society's boxes.

I will claim my space.

I will claim my space.

I will claim my space with steady knees

and the knowledge that

You have hemmed me in behind and before.

I will walk strong and courageous,

because You are with me.

You never leave nor forsake.

You have called me further up and further into your life, freely given.

You have called me to freedom.

I will stand on this riverbank

rooted in joy.

I will rest in your presence

when I am weary

and You will delight over me with singing.

I will walk in confidence because
You are fairer than the sons of men,

and the security you give me

is better than children.

I will wait for You.

I will wait to see Your goodness in the land of the living.

I will practice trust by walking

though my back is sore

and dancing though I do not know the steps.

I will not give way to fear.

I will breathe slow

and claim my space

and rest in the knowledge that

you are Love
and I am Yours.

idée fixe

barbed wire.
the wire was barbed and it was home
for me, though you were displaced.

(and there is more but it is untraceable within these veins.)

Soul Blue

I sat on a rock next to the river and mulberries bounced off my head from the tree behind me. I took off my shoes and socks and stuck my feet in the cool water. I watched a heron downstream and a boychild upstream. I folded my knees under my chin and watched the sky go from white to dark, dark grey and then I finally left, putting on my shoes and climbing up the bank, realizing that if I didn’t leave soon I would get stuck in the glorious downpour.

I did not make it home before the rain started. I did however, make it home before it poured down in sheets. Then my mama and I sat on an old picnic blanket on the front porch eating chocolate frozen yogurt and delighted in the storm. And then, quickly as it came, it ended, the thunder rolling South and the rain turning into dripping. The clouds turned the color of perfectly toasted marshmallows. The wind stayed. The birds started singing again, their goodnight songs to the sun. And then the clouds danced South too, and made way for the pre-sunset blue sky, a blue full of quiet and gentleness, that does not demand attention but attracts it anyway.

aaand that's all I got. :D