your strong hands shaped my world.
like clay, it formed at your will.

you were here,
then gone,
then here,
then gone again.

now you’re back, and I stand at the window,
waiting, watching, wishing
your train would come faster.

because the day is here and we’re ready.
the day is young, yet I am getting older.

and I’m ready to meet you,
to fall in love
the way you fell-
in love with me,
when you held
me first- in your strong hands,
shaping my world.

your eyes could see farther
than my soul could reach.
your visions, dreams, and fears for me
created my hopes, my limits, and my nightmares.

in you, I have found my own strength.
now my hands,
strong as yours once were,
will shape the life of another.
but still you will stay,
strong, steadfast, and my mother.

I will have to remove myself, coffee in hand, from the front porch of my extremely comfortable home in upstate New York. The blanket I spread out there, the book I’ve been reading, the delicious leftovers from my father’s homemade Italian feasts- they’ll all be memories as I board the 24 hour flight to Dar es Salaam. I will take a deep breath, and the adventure will begin.

I will enter a world that I thought had shaped mine. I’ll revisit a lens I had imagined was stuck on the camera of my mind forever. I think the shopping malls and television channels, the fast food and the stacks of novels and CDs have wiped it away. The voices of the girls I knew are now distant, the imprints left on my heart have been covered up by other loves.

I won’t worry so much about the iPhone I want, or the email that’s cluttering my inbox. I won’t complain about missing the marathon of my favorite show. I won’t stop to fill up my car…

I’ll be reminded of the simplicity I long for. I’ll hear the sounds of soulful songs. I’ll smell the fresh embe at the market place. I’ll think about slowing down.

I pray that in the process of remembering, I don’t forget you.
I hope that in the stillness, in the silence, I seek you out.
I know that in the sky I’ll see your face.
Come away with me.

Buy a shirt before I leave for Tanzania on June 5 and get free shipping/delivery!

“this country is less human than any other,” he said.

he’s right.

you’re gone.

El Señor es mi *pastor, nada me falta;
² en verdes pastos me hace descansar.
    Junto a tranquilas aguas me conduce;
³ me infunde nuevas *fuerzas.
    Me guía por sendas de *justicia
        por amor a su *nombre.

a beautiful thing.

(via npr)

Had a great conversation last night in a darkish room with some friends about the relationship between science and art and faith. Life is a beautiful overlap, I believe.

(via thinknoevil)

four nights in a row now, I’ve walked back in the mist.

those sprinklers turn on like clockwork and I’m left to fend for myself,
trudging up the mountain carrying whatever I’ve collected.

it’s a long road and my bag is heavy;
full of regret, far-away memories, your books and the t-shirt we bought
on our road trip last summer. do you want it back?

why do they even have to water the grass, anyway?
last night I stumbled across the wet path, cursing the lawn for needing such
inconvenient sustenance in the middle of the night.
it’s four am, damn it.

it was nicer in the woods. quieter there. safer there.
you can leave me here, I begged. I’ll be alright.
because this is where I’m from, I thought. longing to go back,
feeling lost among the buildings, next to all the people,
underneath the lights with loud sounds and louder switches.

my words weren’t making sense and you laughed at me.
but I felt stronger there, happier there, alive there.
then we found our way out and I found my way in and then I was here.
here, where I am lonely among faces- longing for faces I no longer know,
wishing you would finally use that compass we found when we were ten years old-
somewhere between the swings and the sandbox, under the stars.

come and find me. I ask you. but I say it with my thoughts, not with my words.
because we never had to use words before and so you can’t remember what
my voice sounds like anymore,
and so we’ve grown apart.
more distant than the sandbox and the stars.
you remind me with your eyes that you are not the one I should be asking.
but I can’t see you because of the mist.

there, on the lawn, there you are.
I pass you by because the lawn seems too safe.
I slip in the back door, up the stairs, into bed.
trudging up the mountain carrying whatever I’ve collected.
those sprinklers turn on like clockwork and I’m left to fend for myself,

for nights in a row now, I’ve walked back in the mist.
my eyes are starting to water.

This is perhaps the most life-giving, peace-bringing piece I have experienced in a great while.

Be still, my soul; the Lord is on your side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to your God to order and provide;
In every change he faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul; your best, your heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
Be still, my soul; your God will undertake
To guide the future as he has the past.
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my soul; the waves and wind still know
His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.
Be still, my soul; though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then you will better know his love, his heart,
Who comes to soothe your sorrows and your fears.

Be still, my soul; your Jesus can repay
From his own fullness all he takes away.
Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.

Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

In boxes
they moved you;
your name stripped away.

||you’re his now, you know||
you perform. you obey.

You’re told where to sleep,
how to lie,
what to dream.

I would love to see these people respond to “their government” telling them who they couldn’t marry, what they couldn’t do to their bodies, what they couldn’t say, what they couldn’t follow…

How much gas costs?

I did.

I woke up, I walked about 10 steps and turned on the tap to brush my teeth. I went downstairs and drank a glass of cold, clean, and clear water. I took a shower without even thinking. I watered my garden this morning, and flushed the toilets in my house. I never said thank you, not once.

This morning was quite unlike the ones I spent in Tanzania, and the ones I’m looking forward to this summer (read on to find out more about my three month service-learning trip).

That was a trip for me. I returned. I’ve come back, and for some reason I still find myself acting ungrateful. For so many, it’s a reality.

Over 100 girls at the SEGA School in Morogoro face challenges every day, and finding clean water is just one of them. With the amazing growth of their school, garden, and business, the girls are running out of a potable and sustainable water option.

What will they do?

We’re hoping to create a rainwater capturing system which will provide them with a long term healthy and sustainable solution.

To find out more about this project, or to donate toward it, please visit:
http://www.globalgiving.org/projects/water-for-vulnerable-tanzanian-girls/

Today: Be thankful for so many things.

/want!

(via alexvandy)