Just the other day, I went and sat with this amazing girl at my school. She is in a wheel chair, and she has a mental disability, but that certainly doesnt disable her from being happy. Every day this girl is smiling and friendly, and really good to chat with. People, no matter if they are popular or not, boys or girls, any grade- will hang out with her for a good time. So I realized not only is this girl awesome, so are people in general. Because in a situation where someone would often be seen getting mocked and laughed at, or just avoided- instead there are people throwing away judgment and getting to know the real person. That sounds blog-worthy to me.
Passionate
Am I the only one?
Even just thinking about writing- Do you get that tingly feeling that bubbles in your stomach?
Do you start to smile, and have to try not to laugh- even through your roughest days?
Where all of the sudden, life and all in life-
Is glorious,
Where you can connect with God,
And see his son shining through the clouds?
So just the other day, I was doing a farely boring strengthening exersize in dance class, and my mind wanders to the novel I’m writing- that feeling wells up and I just can’t hold it in…I burst out laughing. Lots of stares? Yes. Totally worth it? Absolutely
Through the Haze
I don’t cry very often. Eleven and a half years of harsh teachers took care of that for me- and I don’t only mean from school. That was one of the few things I’d learned from them; how to conceal my emotions. Smiling is a rarity too. Keeping a straight face is merely survival instinct. Keep it up and get through high school with fewer scars, mentally and physically.
“Rowan.” Mr. Highlin called. I turned my hard, cold brown eyes to meet his evenly. Squaring my shoulders I stood and recited, “Three thousand, five hundred and seventy six.” He gave a brisk nod, and I sat back in my desk. The hawk-eyed teacher asked another question, calling on a slight girl, with delicate features, the only girl in class with her waist length, light blond hair down rather than tucked into a braid or bun. “Erin.” She had a small flaw in her response, and I knew the Mr. Highlin had detected it when his mouth flew into a mocking grin like a whip. It reminded me disturbingly of the Cheshire cat. The lecture he gave the poor girl must have been at least fifteen minutes long before finally allowing her the privilege to sit. Poor girl? No. Around here, if you couldn’t look out for yourself, you were done for. And it’s your own fault. Somehow though, Erin simply cocked an eyebrow and gave off an amused looking smile as she sat. I hadn’t seen that in years. Mr. Highlin glared at her, a silent promise to deal with her later, when at last the bell rang, and we flooded out of class.
I braced myself before turning the rusted door handle that meant home. My parents bickering developed into screeching within the short time it took me to cross the hall to my bedroom. That was lucky. Better them than me, better invisible than beaten, and anyone around here would agree. I shook out my now messy braid, and was about to redo it when a memory, so brief I didn’t even realize it had flickered through me, flashed an image of Erin with her hair flowing down, and I left my own black hair loose, flowing down past my hips from years without a hair dresser. I almost smiled at it, then rolled my eyes at myself and slumped to the ground to start my homework.
When I awoke the next morning, I was still half asleep and drowsy- all I could process was the terrible noise. Groaning, I ripped my alarm clock from the wall and threw it to the floor. Understandably, I was quite baffled when the noise continued, never even faltering.
“Crap.” I mumbled, realizing what it was. Not even pausing to rub the grog from my eyes, I shot out of bed and scuttled down the hallway, redoing my braid as I tried to avoid getting tangled up over my own feet, and certainly not taking the time to change from my pajamas. Whipping up the garbage bag, and stumbling under its weight, I burst outside into the dreary outdoors, but I was granted no relief as the garbage truck, and it’s alarming noise, teetered up the street without my bag. Time to head for the dump.
My mom must have gone out somewhere, because the van was gone from the driveway, so I trudged back upstairs to get dressed, and then hauled the massive bag the three blocks it took to reach “Lillindale Dump.” Fifty minutes later, when my garbage was successfully dumped, and my legs were taking me home, I took in the sorry streets of our little town. It was very…grey. There wasn’t much to see. Everything was just dull. The bland smoke puffing from rusted old cars, the colour of the road so faded it almost matched the sidewalk. As I inspected the remains of this place I called home, through the haze came a burst of colour. That colour was Erin. Erin and a little girl, about five years old, who could have been her Minnie-me. She was like a shrunken duplicate of her. Their clothes were poorly stitched and raggedy like the rest of ours, but they were bright pinks, blues and greens. They reminded me of something I couldn’t quite grasp, something bright and colourful and- shimmering.
The two girls were holding hands, and I could hear the tune they were humming as they walked. I watched them with a curious gaze, when Erin’s eyes locked with mine. She squinted, likely recognizing me, and trying to figure out where she’d seen me before. I supposed she found it then, because she suddenly perked up, and crossed the street to meet me, waving exaggeratedly. I held up my hand for a moment and dropped it again, in a sheepish imitation of her wave.
“Hi there!” She chirped. “You’re…” She hesitated, trying to recall my name. “A tree.” She concluded. Needless to say, I was thoroughly confused. “I’m sorry.” She laughed it off. “I’m terrible with names, and I’m new so… but I know it had something to do with some sort of tree.” Oh, I get it. I thought. My name was the name of some sort of tree or bark, or something along those lines. I had never really looked into it much. When she was still struggling to remember, I spoke up,
“Rowan.” I supplied her, feeling a small smile tug at my lips. Erin’s eyes lit up.
“That’s beautiful!” She gawked.
“Thanks…” I said lamely. I didn’t know how to respond to this girl. “I, um-” I stopped and tried again. “You’re Erin right? Does it mean anything?” I asked, for lack of anything else to say.
“England.” She laughed. “I looked it up when I was bored. It means England. I’ve never even been there. It would probably be really pretty…” She trailed off. Coming back from her thoughts, she held up her little duplicate’s hand to introduce her, but there was no need, because the girls hand unlatched from Erin’s and grabbed mine in a firm shake.
“I’m Katie.” She announced in that little kid slur. My eyebrows flew up, and I cast an amused glance at Erin to see her giggling.
“Rowan.” I introduced myself. “She’s very…bold.” I commented to Erin. Katie grinned up at me with a smile that radiated joy. “But sweet.” I added, giving the kid a small smile in return for her brilliant one.
“What are you up to?” Erin asked pleasantly.
“Going home from the dump. Or to the dump considering the state of my bedroom.” Erin cast me a sympathetic look.
“Oh, you had to walk. We’ve all been there. But hey! At least now you get to enjoy the walk back!” I laughed sarcastically at the notion. I didn’t think there was much to enjoy about it.
“Hey!” Erin swiftly brightened. “I’m taking Katie to the park, why don’t you ditch the dump and tag along? It’ll be fun!” Well, I figured. I’m already in for a beating from missing the garbage truck this morning.
“Why not?” I replied. It occurred to me that it was one of the few times in my life I’d asked, why not instead why. Maybe it would grow on me. So I gave it a chance, and I’m glad I did. Brave little Katie grasped my hand, and Erin linked her arm through mine. We walked like that the entire way with non-stop chatter. I wasn’t used to it, but it was pleasant. As Katie played, Erin opened me up. My life spilled from my lips like I was talking to a therapist. No- like I was talking to a friend. It was like I’d known her and Katie my whole life.
“How do you do it?” I asked eventually. “Deal with life so…positively?”
“Well that’s it.” She had said. “Being positive. Looking up with never a glance down.”
“Not even the occasional glance?” I joked, caught on the strange notion that I was actually able to joke.
“Not even.” She laughed.
I pondered that until bed that night. Being positive. We went to the park the next day, the spring breeze healing my fresh bruises and cuts physically, and Erin and Katie healing me inside. We kept on going to the park, almost every weekend- and I was happy. I would smile and laugh and even cry with them, for the first time in years I actually cried– and that’s how Erin and Katie became my sisters.
By the time we were eighteen, we were inseparable, thank heavens, and we took custody of Katie and moved in together. We spent most the money we earned on rent and food, but we had a savings account for going to college in England, and it was steadily growing. I had a real home, and a real family, and I’ve always looked up since that day in the park- both figuratively and literally. Now I knew what Erin had meant about “enjoying the walk back home.” I knew what she could see, that I had been blind to. She didn’t gaze at the sullen, weeping streets, rather at the glorious blue sky.
I sat contentedly on the grass outside our home, wearing a pink dress of all things, and my long hair down, squishing my bare feet into the soil. And sitting there, looking up into the dazzling colours of a rainbow, it donned on me that that was what Erin and Katie had reminded me of through the grey haze- a rainbow. A colourful, shimmering rainbow, I had just never looked up to see the resemblance. And now I was one too. I smiled, and let a happy tear roll down my cheek. I vowed to never forget what Erin told me.
“That’s it.” She had said. “Being positive. Looking up with never a glance down.”
By Brittany Toews (berint)
Opening A Dream
When you open a book,
You open a mind,
What are words to you,
Is a world of it’s kind,
I’ts peering into a vast daydream,
Enhanced by ink on white,
It’s the depth of desire,
For adventure’s bite,
For action’s fight,
It’s longing for a thrill,
A romance,
Looking from a sill,
Through the window of our world,
An authour’s world,
With traits we admire,
Witt to amuse,
Love to flush our hearts,
When you open a book,
You open a dream,
What it would take,
To make an authour’s heart gleam.
Definiton
Sailing along,
Talking ’bout the life,
Wondering if you’ll ever start to live it,
Or if the skeptics are right,
*
And the green is just the green,
The blue is just the blue,
And the rest is just the in between,
*
But it’s not the wind,
Rather the way it blows you,
And just how far you let it push,
That determines the size of your wave,
*
A shimmering ripple,
To lap at the shore,
A looming tidal,
High as birds that soar,
*
And wich way it takes you-
Out of the green and into the blue?
Or is it that the reverse is true?
And the inbetween can swallow you,
But impermanence may follow through,
*
No the wind does not define you,
The green is more than the green,
The blue more than the blue,
And in between is potential,
Awaiting wind’s inspiration to brew.
Ready your Soul
This is not a game,
For the entertainment of the devil,
This is a war,
For the glory of God.
Warriors of God,
Be feirce,
As the Lords fire burns within you,
Be brave,
As God will protect,
Be true,
For shame of God is absurd,
GLOW,
For how can this light be hidden?
Warriors of God,
It’s time to fight,
Fight with words,
But sweet ones,
Actions,
But wise ones,
Passion,
Without limits,
Inspiration,
For every heart,
And with the Lord guiding every step,
Remember This
When You Feel Unimportant~
There is a war raging for you’re soul every moment that you breath.
When You Feel Unimportant,
The God who made heaven and earth is crying for you.
When You Feel Unimportant,
The devil desperatly seeking you out.
When You Feel Unimportant,
You’re being ludicrous because God has a plan that you are very much involved in.
When You Feel Unimportant,Remember This~
IT MEANS THE DEVIL IS WINNING,
Because for the time being, it means you don’t trust God.
So keep you’re chin up, because when you feel unimportant: You aren’t.
Leave it at the Cross
I’m sent here now to save your souls,
Your burdens weigh you down,
But God has hiven me to you,
I’ll lift them on my crown,
So lay your thorns upon my head,
And lead me to the cross,
I’ll take the nails for your sin,
And Satan’s at a loss,
For three days come and three days go,
Again I am risen,
The barrier is torn and down,
Gates open to heaven,
I see the smiles on your face,
As your sin flees away,
I see the smiles on your face,
For you are free today!
Perfection
Perfection,
It’s getting the grade,
Blending in,
Sticking with the “right” crowd,
Perfection,
It’s enough makeup,
The right boyfriend,
Clothes that “pop”,
Perfection,
It’s composure,
Standing tall,
Sitting straight,
Never over excited,
Perfection,
The way you’re seen,
Who you’re with,
How you look,
Perfection,
No Such Thing.
Brittany Toews
PS: When I say no such thing, I do mean by human standards, of course- perfection is found in the Lord Jesus Christ 🙂
Confusion
I am so confuzed.
On one shoulder lies my ration,
The other my hysteria,
And then there is God.
But how to distinguish one from the next?
How to hear one voice at a time,
And then how to accept the words?
Maybe the truth is plain to see and I am in denial,
Maybe truth is hidden deep and this is simply trial!
But this conflict steals my soul away and war is waging hard,
I dont know what to do
And God’s voice just wont break through,
Do I leap or will I stay?
Will it hurt or will it pay?
Will I break before I can even decide,
And will my heart always feel this way?
I flew but now im being heavy,
Is it this easy to strike me down?
I dont know what he’s trying to say,
This I dont know what to do.
What to do?
What to do?
Questions and answer but we musnt forget loopholes.
And I was so close!
AM so close!
To stop now?
Turn away?
Give up thirteen years of me,
When Im almost at the top?
What a waste!
And to where would I go?
What would I do?
Good to great,
But if it’s a mistake?
Why now?
Why this?
But it’s not mine to know,
Just to follow,
But to where do you lead me?
Am I hearing you right?
Is this really what you want,
And if it is,
Do I have the strength to obey?
To give it up,
To give me up?
No.
But you do.
Will I take it?
I’m so confused.
Guys, I need prayer.
In a perfect world, I’d know the answer,
In a perfect world I’d do God’s bidding,
Yet,
Although beautiful this world is broken,
And I am lost in the trap that is sin.
I have to stay home from dance today,
I just cant go,
Ijust cant stay
I followed my dreams,
I followed my God,
But if God is my dream?
And yet I remain too selfish,
I want to follow me,
But what the futur holds, only God can see,
And if I cant tell the difference?
Between God’s voice and mine?
Then what harder;
If I can,
And thus forced to leave one for the other,
Or compromise,
But middle ground is not for me,
Iwon’t be evil but I wont be great,
And isnt that an evil of it’s own?
berint 