End of Year Tribute

This year is my last at ESCHEL, the coop I've attended for about four years. Can't say I'm sorry to go. Anyway, all the 10th graders are supposed to write a little end of year note, and I liked mine so much I thought I'd post it here.

       Well, ESCHEL is almost over. That’s nothing new. But this time, it’s the last “over.” Over is for always. And I’m sad. Now, don’t get me wrong. There were those days where slowly burning my assignments in a gigantic bonfire while running around the blaze and whooping like a frustrated Indian sounded pretty good. Is there any sane highschool student who hasn't felt like that at some point between November and April? I don’t think so. But ESCHEL has helped me grow, spiritually and educationally. I've made two of the most important friendships I will ever make. I've learned how to cite APA research papers. I've learned not to puke at a fish’s fermented innards. I've learned that I can write a good essay in half-an-hour (believe me, a two years ago, that felt like walking up Mt. Everest without an oxygen tank). I can’t imagine a better preparation for my life as I enter the new, big world of college classes. So now, as I wave my hand in farewell, I can smile and look back with fondness on the memories I made, and who I am now compared to what I was then. Thank you.         

-Karly Lunda

Psalm 39:7

And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in you.

Luke 1:37

For nothing will be impossible with God.

The plight of a restless soul, Spring.

    The world waits. The sun shines. The air is a pair of arms, open, sweeping wide in a welcome embrace. Each house has its own shining curtain of water, a private rainstorm. A December world is slowly melting away into April's bubbling laughter. Water, frozen just seconds before, bounds down ditches and off roofs. Widening black earth. Green shoots uncurling into the warming air.

The becoming widens.

    One knows how important this is. All can feel it. The air is welcoming. Swelling . Homecoming.
Of a Joy eternal, sighs the wind. Spring is here. The air so clear, the time of waiting while summer draws near. Ever beautiful.
     Little things are born. Little things stir in the hearts of people, things frozen by a wind that blows not just from the north. Of love and happiness, mirth and goodwill. What a One we have to look to. Who could create such perfection?

     I come back to earth. The ground is muddy, the snow a mixture of what looks like slushy tar and coffee grounds, the buds hanging on to the trees for dear life. Water is everywhere. Creeping into basements, roaring through ditches. Everything is about as wet as the inside of a water balloon.

Do we care? Nope.

   

Throb

The throb of a heartbeat

How to describe it?

Throb. Throb. Throb. Throb.

Like the love of a thing is ripping

Ripping out your heart for love of--

Motion. A throb of

Pain.

Silence.

Standing in the wings of fate--

The curtain rises.

Pressed against black velvet

It’s a feeling I’ll never forget.

The lights blind me across the stage,

No one moves as dancers move slowly forward.

The music swells in mounting rage--

I set my feet before me

Prepare. Wait.

Go.

Tuel swirls around my knees,

Cool air--the kind

only found in large places--

Brushes my bare arms

My feet move me through spaces

Move me to other places

I dance the stage into submission.

Shock after shock shakes me

I feel muscle--my muscle

struggling, striving, racing, diving--

My feet hit the ground time and time again

Shock. After. Shock.

Only after the dance is finished

I realize my lungs are heaving

My breathing ran out of control

Sweat breaks on my cheeks

But what do I care?

I smile--I’m so happy!

We’ve succeeded--we’ve done it!

I join hands with the others

And set my foot behind the other

Letting the applause wash over me,

Grinning like a fool, but not caring.  

My hands go up,

We bow-- more applause

Then...the curtain closes--

All is over.

Silence.

We try to fill the sudden void,

But the emptiness we cannot avoid.

I walk off the stage, making my way

To feel my heart throb another day

To make room for the next set

To stand in the wings of fate.

This day

I spent an interesting and cobwebby time in the rafters of our shed a few minutes ago, battling a huge two-by-four, and getting mud on the ceiling. I'm quite thankful the spiders haven't come out of the deep, dank, dungeons they go to during the winter yet. The shed is almost hopeless. We'll see if I can conquer the dust and bugs before the summer is out. Every day my jeans loose a little more cloth around the knees--what will win this epic struggle? The shed, or the denim...Let the best thing win.

NEWS FLASH: It actually feels like spring outside. You don't need me to tell you that. WOW! I'm pumped for flowers and grass. The sound of water running is a boon to my frost-nipped ears. We can start expecting the yearly migration--humans and beasts alike--to return to the north any time now. Every day the snow goes down a few more inches. The ice on the creak has a big channel running down the center, and the rink is turning in to a pond. Muddy paw-prints abound.

I put a few of the shovels away today. Mom said it's bad luck to put them away before we know for sure if it'll snow again--but I'll take a chance. Besides, I haven't stowed the snow blower yet. Who knows, we may still need it.

I'm still hunting for a job at nearby stables. I've been praying to God, asking that He would grant me this opportunity.  I'm excited! Who knows what will happen.

Happy Easter, folks. Praise the God who gave us His son and spring to enjoy. Enjoy this good Friday--I'm off to do push-ups and watch Jericho. (Great show, by the way.)

                

Lessons from the life of Jason Bourne

Lesson 1: Never, EVER enter into a program in which they say to you, "do you really need to know that?"

Lesson 2: Yes, the government has phone a surveillance system. Be careful.

Lesson 3: In the right hands, magazines can be weapons.

Lesson 4: If you enter into a car chase with Jason Bourne, you will die.

Lesson 5: Killing people kills you.

     Time to state the obvious: I just finished the first three Bourne movies. Now for my rating: I give it an 8 on the heart-wrenching-o-meter, a 10 on the fist-pump-o-meter, and it received the A. W. E. S. O. M. E. award on the plot-o-meter. I loved it! Here's the one thing that got me, though. So Jason is tortured by the memory all the people he's killed. He says in the third movie, "I try to apologize..."
     I wish more people knew God forgives. I know, I know, Bourne was just a character in a movie, but it made me sad.
     Hopefully the Aaron agent person in the next movie has a happier state of mind...but I doubt it. "Happy state of  mind" is a completely foreign concept for these agents, and I don't blame them.
    ANYWAYS. The Bourne trilogy is excellent and ranks second on my imaginary favorite movie list--next only to Lord of the Rings. Have fun wincing sympathetically as you watch.

Saturday, March 9th

I staggered into the house after a ride through the drizzle. The most annoying part of this whole recovery sequence is when my legs threaten to give way after the most menial of activities. But that will pass in time, right? I sure hope so. That's beside the point, however.
What a beautiful day. It smells like spring. Granted, what with the rain, slush, and lack of flowers, its not an ideal picture of spring as we see it in Birds & Blooms magazine, but the world has a variety of masks.
Can you believe it's March? Already? I think this year has made my "most eventful" list. My imaginary "most eventful" list. You know, the only reason I even have a most eventful list this year is because I actually have time to think. *grin

Oh, yes. I almost forgot. I watched the Hunger Games, and I'd like to give you all a rating. It rated a 9 on the icky-o-meter, 10 on the acting-o-meter, and it received the B. L. A. H. award on the plot-o-meter. I'd give it four out of ten stars--only because of the acting. And the game-maker's beard. The game-maker's beard was SPECTACULAR. Here's a picture of it:
                                                     
Isn't it the best? I thought so.

Back to the drizzle. This week, because it's been so warm, I've had the privilege to watch the icicles form outside my window. The light sparkles in them like they've caught the sun's light and trapped it in their slender bodies. No icicles today, however. Just a grey expanse of sky and that oh-so-fresh air. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Flowers

 Garden

A field of daisies,

Waving cheery.

A midsummer rose,

Nodding sweetly.

And there by the corner

A honeysuckle humming

Brighter and taller

Bursting with flower.

A garden gate amidst it all

An opening in the stone wall.

A rocky path leads to

The bee’s euphoria.

Another Garden

The earth’s merriment rises from the ground

What does it look like? How does it sound?

It flutters on wings light as air

It sends its aroma with the birds and bees

Its chuckles arise from the ground-

Red, blue, yellow, purple

Slender petals wave in the breeze

The earth’s humor is these.

A rocky wall surrounds it all
A happy sanctuary...

A gorgeous wilderness

Becrimsoned and begilded

Like a testimony of all things beautiful

Gathered in one happy spot

Slender petals wave in the breeze—

The earth’s humor is these.