(Over)thoughts | A glimpse into the chaos.

Realist

Posted on November 21 2012 by J.W. Richmond

I’m not so good at thanking God.

It’s not that I’m not grateful
for what I have –
or don’t have.

But when something good happens,
     I don’t always attribute it to Him.
   Probably because if I did, I think
        I would also attribute
             everything bad that happens to Him,
                  because He is in charge of everything.
                             He is God, after all.
       Instead, I just do some of both.

I also tend to play out
     too many possibilities
               for what is and
                    what could happen.
     Positive outcomes are possibilities, of course,
    or else the scenarios wouldn’t be realistic.

And even though Jeff would disagree,
I am a realist. (I think.)

But realistically,
     most things in life don’t end
                         positively.
               Most good endings
                   are fictional.

Regardless of the outcomes,
     I should give thanks
          to the God
               who made those possibilities exist
                         in the first place.
     I shouldn’t need a day to remind me to be thankful.
          And I won’t bore anyone
               with my list of things –
                    partly because when other people do them,
                         it doesn’t help me
                              be any more thankful for anything, and
                    partly because those lists
                         (mostly) annoy me.

Instead, I will just remind myself
          again
     to thank God
          for what He has done and will do –
                    even though my eyes and
                                         ears and
                                         thoughts and
                                         feelings
                                           add up to reason
                                                      and
                                                  not to faith.

82

Posted on November 17 2012 by J.W. Richmond

I thought blogging would be a good catalyst
     to help me finish
          what I start to write –
     a way to wrap things up and
                  put stuff out there
                         rather than just journaling
                                        in circles.

Instead,
     I have 82 pages
          of unfinished words
               that are strung together with some semblance of meaning,
                    but none of it is good enough. (At least not yet.)
                          None of it is clear enough
           meaningful enough
                 interesting enough
                 thought out enough.

It’s (almost) as jumbled
as what’s inside my head.

And it just
keeps
increasing.

Protect

Posted on November 16 2012 by J.W. Richmond

He shuts off
down
in.

Grieving.

As pain slowly covers
                     encompasses him,
     he tries to make his world smaller
                                         manageable
                                         controllable,
          but it still screams back in his face,
                      reminding him it’s there,
                            and it can't be contained
                                          that easily.

He tries
        to limit the control
           the pain has,
               slowly
               building
               barriers
         as we work
           to break through the    obstacles   he places around him,
                      to find him –
                         be with him
                              through everything
                                        he doesn’t want us to see
                                                               know
                                                                     experience.

He tries to protect us
                        from it all
       while protecting himself
                        from feeling weak
                                     or needy.

But he isn’t either of those.
He has it backward.

We just need
him.

Revolving

Posted on November 10 2012 by J.W. Richmond

I feel like I’m just going in circles
                                   cycles
                                 laps
                         and never actually get
                                 anywhere.

I slow down
trudge through
           speed up
           run faster
      and stay right where I am.

When the only door God opens
     is a revolving one,
          I am still supposed to praise Him.
                                            Right?
                                       Thank Him.
                                            Right?
                                       Trust Him.
                                            Right?
     Even when I don’t actually end up going
                 anywhere?
     Even when I can't get out
                 and feel trapped where I am
                 and stuck where I am?

He will provide an actual way out someday.
(Right?)

Humbling

Posted on November 3 2012 by J.W. Richmond

Am I a moral person?

In most areas,
     for the most part,
               mostly, I am.
                         (I think.)

But is that like someone thinking they are humble (2 Chronicles 7:14)?
Maybe once you think you are,
it negates the actuality of it.

Do I mostly do the right thing?
Do I act rightly?
Do justly?
Walk humbly with my God (Micah 6:8)?

I would like to think so.

That’s definitely what I try to do
and live like
and be like.

But what would my friends say?
Or my husband say?

What would God say?

Is being mostly good okay (Psalm 32:2)?
Is that enough (1 John 1:8)?

Because sin isn’t just doing something
               completely
                         wrong.
It’s doing
          any other variation
               of what is
                         entirely right (1 John 5:17a).

I’m clearly not perfect, and I don’t ever expect to be.
But that’s obvious.
What’s a little bit less clear (I think)
is that, based on that definition,
I’m not as moral as I think I am.

And that
is very
humbling.

Jack

Posted on October 31 2012 by J.W. Richmond

(as in o-lantern)

I know, I know, I’ve said it before.

I love Halloween!

No big breakthroughs, unanswerable questions or frustrating difficulties this time.

Just enjoying the day.

Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas* (Jeff's) and Ghostface from Scream** (mine).

What we are giving away to the neighborhood kids. (I love all things glow-ey!)

Readable

Posted on October 27 2012 by J.W. Richmond

I feel under pressure
to write something (readable).

I know the pressure comes
          mostly
               from within.
But I don’t know how
               not
               to feel it.

This is why goals are so hard for me to make.
I’m so sick of failing
                 at
                 everything
          that I don’t want to create
                      even more ways to fail.

Games

Posted on October 20 2012 by J.W. Richmond

I don’t do well with failure,
even at games –
even games where I’m not playing against anyone else.

It should be just a game, right?

But for me,
     sometimes it just reinforces
          how much of a failure I actually am
                         (or feel like I am, Jeff would edit).

In this case,
     it’s a game a five-year-old plays
                              and loves
                              and has no problem with.

Does it really have to tell me
I failed?

Can’t it just tell me to try
again
without commenting on my entire life?

Saturated

Posted on October 13 2012 by J.W. Richmond

Sometimes I am so aware
     of myself
     of the people in my life
     of the world around me
          that it’s almost like an
                    overly saturated photo.
Each detail is so concentrated
                    strong
                    bright
                    vivid
          that it’s hard to see
                    the bigger picture
                         of how everything fits together
                                           or doesn’t.

But other times
     I am so focused
               on particulars
          that I miss other things
                                details
                                specifics
                                        around the edges,
                              as if the frame
                                 has shifted
                                 and altered reality,
                    so all I can concentrate on
                              is what I
                                 could be
                               might be
                                 missing.

I don’t think I can be aware
     of every piece
     of everything.
But I wish
      I could see through
               those blind spots
                    and accurately
                         fill them in.

Fade

Posted on October 12 2012 by J.W. Richmond

The black slowly
        leaks
        in
                  from the
                                         edges
                  from above,
            starting transparently
                  almost like honey,
            gradually becoming
                     thicker
                     more opaque
                            cloudy,
                            then
                            dark.

Every sound seems            far away
                                          distant
                                          muted
                                   as if whispered
          as I start to
                        s
                             p
                          i
                            n
                    and my balance
                                              wavers
                                        trembles
                             then shifts         entirely to one side
                    and I have to remind myself
                             to breathe
                                      before the black
                                                    completely
                                                    overtakes me.

The sweat
          follows
          creeps
          crawls     along     my     skin
                  until it
                          concentrates
                               on my fingers
                                    as they get hot
                                            then cold
                                            and wet.
                                      They feel like they should be
                                             sticky from the salt,
                                                    but instead, they are
                                                             smooth
                                                               like saturated
                                                                 river rocks.

As I lie down,
     the dampness seeps through my hair
          from the top of my head.
     My breaths become shallow
                                 and
                                 frequent
          as the drops strive to cool me down
                    and I start to clear
                          just a little.
      The black begins to      fade back
                                                toward the corners,
             greyed colors return,
                     and even in the dark,
                          my vision becomes minimally brighter
                                                                    focused.

Sounds return
          crisper
          enunciated
               and my breaths begin to deepen
                                        and calm.