Today was my last Writing for Publication class. The professor gave us the same assignment he gave us day one: start with "I write" and carry on from there, for 5 minutes. Go. Incidentally, last night I re-discovered my journal and delved somewhat into this question of writing. Anyway, the first section was my class assignment, and the second was my journal entry. Merci.

I write because I can, because I want, because I love. If the trees didn't so persistently torment me into inspiration, I would not write. If the lake were not so green and blue and greeny-yellow-blue, I would not, could not write.

I write because I like to find
Rhyming words of different kind.
From yellow chicks hopping in their nest
To when the sunlight takes its rest,
I write.
For if I didn't I might
Explode.

Freed from stifled thoughts, my words sometimes dance or drip or stumble or collapse onto pages and books and volumes. I write because who listens? No one can listen, no one will listen. The pages listen, for in their silence they cannot interrupt me.

I write to be remembered. I write because I fear I will forget. And if I forget me, who then can recall me? I desperately write to leave my mark, my authorship, my name up something no one can interrupt. I will not go away. That is why I write.

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I hear your whispers, but there are voices all around me... and they are friendly voices. But they are not listening. No, indeed they babble on and on and never cease. There, again! You speak too, but I don't know if I like it. It's so different, and I truly fear that which I do not know.

I think I write because I want people to listen to me. When you're filling lines and pages and volumes with ink and words and sentences, no one can interrupt you. They can put down what you've scrawled and walk away, but even then the pages cannot escape your thoughts. Why am I so determined to leave my mark, to sign my work, to claim my authorship? LISTEN TO ME! I always feel unheard. You'd think for someone so desperately longing to be heard that I would be one who listens well to others and to the Lord. Not so. Always speaking but never heard. Truly, I am both blind and deaf.

"I will not forget you. I have swept away your offences like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me for I have redeemed you" (Isaiah 45:22)

He will not forget me! Why should I be so concerned with leaving a mark? I have been cleansed and redeemed...

So I stop my desolate wanderings and sit and cry, my face angled away from the city lights before me. Sometimes this is me returning.

I lift my left, you lift your right
Your eyes peer at mine
I reach to touch you and can't quite
Connect, although we do align

In you I see behind me
But behind you is dull and black
So your rear is faced away that we
Can trust that you have got our back

Identical we are, but do contrast:
I have your hips, your smile, your nose
But your features appear more glassed
Than mine, although it vaguely shows

You walk and turn and spin and mock
Me as I prepare for the day
And when I start to speak you talk
Over me forecasting what I'll say

Some look at you for days and years
Needing your curt nod to leave
You show them all their greatest fears
Though what you say they must believe

For you cannot lie, yet we want
Your scrutiny to be more mild
Instead you mimic and you taunt
And your judgments drive us wild

Our dearest friend and greatest foe
We are mesmerized by your stare
That tells us all we wish to know
But, O! wished more we didn’t care.

i made the most vile cake today.
Kjer helped.
the icing was gorgeous though.
but that just goes to show you that something
that is so beautiful on the outside
can be full of crap in the middle.



ps: i didn't mean for this to be deep.

—What say you, Rogue? Tripping through the rumbles of the night. Cacooned in another’s cloak, displaced of faith, aye, strong in faith! With mortal persistence and shallow perception have you now come? Seek freedom’s window, delayer of soiled garments. Release the sound of waiting; its chasms of transparent harmonies. Address thy soul and the stalker of thine heart. Dismiss all darkened footholds to collapse into ecstatic benevolence.—

I write.

I write before I realize there is a pen in my hand. Before I yank up the blinds or eat my breakfast, I write. As the clock's hands change from seven to eight to nine--oh gosh, I'm late!--I write.

Because he strolled so deliberately across the road with shadows in his eyes, I write. For who would tell his story? Surely not I, for we have never met. But he screams to be known! And so I write.

Beacuse the plump finch springs lightly on the lawn, I write, for she cannot.

Because there are pages and pages to fill and thoughts and words and laughter and emotion and expression and frustration and ugliness and humanity. Because we are, I write. Because there is and there was and there will be, I write.

And so I write. And so I always will, as long as there is time, I will write. As long as there are seasons and naked trees and clothed trees and the smells of the damp earth and the noises of the rivers... I will write. And even when these fade I will write, of what they were and how they change and what now I will write of instead. For as long as there is life there is inspiration and as long as there is inspiration will be canvases to fill and pages to flood and song to compose.

So may you take your inspiration and do what you do. Dance. Paint. Play. Create. Explore. Today is alive--that is all we can know. Tomorrow may slink up as darkness, so find in your imagination and reality the ideals and impossibilities of your dreams and let them meander out of your soul and watch them explode into sprints. And then do the same thing tomorrow. And then again. And over and over until you realize that you can never return to any sort of mediocrity. Allow yourself to become pregnant with uncontainable possibility and, for the love of it all, spill over.

I feel like I have no words to express what my heart is bursting with right now... but I'll try.

I have never in my life faced such a long time of question and confusion, where I resented all that I said I believed and fell into a place of wanting to be free from this Christ. I wanted out. I felt lied to and deceived by the thing I had clung to the most in my life. I was so hurt and frightened. And was clearly being sucked in by lies and facing Satan's oppression.

I can't say that I've achieved enlightenment now (or whatever it may be), but I have been chased and caught, and it feels so great! Guilt is EVIL. Shame is NOT from God! It never will be! We are so afraid of turning back to Him because the devil has whispered to us that the Lord is angry, or worse, disappointed in us. That He is pulling the plug on our blessings because we failed. That He is revoking the gifts He gave us. That He will punish us. Or that He will remove His presence from us. NO NO NO, this is WRONG! HE ADORES YOU! and ME! He looks at us in our most F-ed up situations and picks us up oh so gently in those moments. He. wants. to. free. us. Satan wants to destroy us! If we opened our tear-swollen eyes and looked up we would see that God is standing over us, fighting for us, breaking the arrows of the enemy in mid-flight. He. is. fighting. for. us. period.

Go. Go to Him and worship, no matter what state you are in. Proclaim His goodness. No "buts!" Stand up and tear off the layers of guilt, shame, lies, deceit, fear, anxiety... tear them off like clothes. Stand naked before Jesus and watch as He walks to you with a gorgeous purple robe to re-dress you in. Stand and be healed, for He already looks at you as clean and pure. Accept it! Why would you want to continue to stand in the hopelessness of life? Please, go and be free. Go and be healed and know that you are so dearly dearly loved.

Early this morning--like early early... maybe 2:30 or so--I was just settling in to bed after a rowdy night of fun new year's action. As I turned over to grab my bible, I remember thinking about some of the past conversations that I have had with friends, just sorting through my heart and all the questions that I have come upon. I have been reading in John, but last night I wanting something a bit different. Here's how the conversation went (one that, I'll admit, seems like I had with myself, but it could definitely have been God... I really never can recognize His voice because it sounds a lot like, well, mine.)

Janelle: Hmm, where should I read? I want some good ol' truth.
God(?) : Does it matter? Isn't the entire Bible truth?
Janelle: Uhh... yes.
God: Do you trust me?
Janelle: Uhh... yes.
God: Read Chronicles. 16. 2nd Chronicles 16.
Janelle: Uhh... ok.

So I read it. And FRICK it was just what I needed. JUST what I needed. The thing that struck me the most was verse 9: "For the eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him."

I long to be found as one who is fully committed to the Lord. Despite my doubts, and lack of faith and insecurities in Christ, I want to be found undivided in my committment to Him. The eyes of the Lord wander to and fro, looking for the faithful. And when they are found He gives them strength. I think I need to toss aside my intellect and spend a season chasing Jesus in blind faith. That has a negative connotation to it, but... where is my child-like devotion? My unhindered faith. I have let the reason, intellect, and critical thought of this world--all aspects which have their time and place, even in the faith--crush the simplicity of belief. May it never be so again.

It's like the whole world is waiting for something big to happen. We all line up, hoping to catch a glimpse of, well, anything. Something to make us chuckle and something to make us weep. Something to help us remember and something to let us forget. Something to tell us we are doing just fine an something to reveal that we have been doing it wrong all along. Some of us want calculated rationale and some of us want experiential mysticism.

They forgot to tell us that this isn' t the circus or a freak show. There are no bearded women or lions jumping through rings of fire or midgets on the trapeze. We are sitting in the wrong seats, hoping to shriek in terror and squeal with delight. We do not want entertainment--we want chaos. Insanity in our days in order to stifle the piercing quiet in our souls. We want to run life at breakneck speed in order to prove to the others careening about that we have accomplished something. Something important. We do not cast off the disorder, why? Because we are afraid of what we will encounter in the clarity. We refuse to stop muttering or to turn off the music, or to unplug the computer and TV because the silence is screaming for survival and we dread its gasping connotations.

For what is there in the nothingness of the wind's taunts? What man-made deception has removed the taste of damp earth from our feet, forcing us to distance our extremities from the elements? And why do we curse the elements so, buttoning up when in frost, and delayering when under sun-glare?

I feel awful. Awfully comfortable. Oddly secure, yet fretfully ill at ease.

Who is God, my Creator? Why have I cheaped His favour? To whom shall I belong?

Who am I? Who is she?
What's behind Is she more than the
my eyes? Shame in her eyes?
I painted The fear that
A self-portrait Keeps her hiding.
See, it's hanging The rotting stench
in my room In her soul
A secret room. A life of lies
I've pulled it down And mishapened truths
(Did I let it be ripped down?) Have distorted her view
Here it lays, shattered Cross-eyed
Pieces. Pieces. Pieces... With selective hearing
Not of me! But of a She sews her broken pieces
Beautiful brokenness Together with empty words
Who shall reconstruct And pointing fingers
The contours of my soul When will she remove
And patterns of my identity The No Tresspassing Sign
In my heart? From her heart?

I feel a frozen waterfall
At least it still hurts
'Cuz the damage of standing in front
Of a mirror
Seeing the gaping, bleeding hole
In my Chest
Yet feeling no pain
Scars more than the
Soul-wrenching
Agony of distress
You said I showed
Frozen emotion
Like a winter waterfall
You wanted to
Increase the volume
Of my muted screams
To thaw this passive numbness
Pathetically apathetic...
Don't say you didn't know him
I recognize in those eyes
Destroyed from the inside

My future...

Seriously, I have such a love-hate relationship with that concept. Part of my is like, "wohoo, my future! I am going to travel and see things and have random adventures and get married and have more adventures!" The other part of me goes, "Dang. I am so not going anywhere in life right now."So you can understand my obvious dilemma.

Right now, Trinity is awesome. I really am feeling connected, and I love learning and hanging out with friends, so this environment is perfect. All aspects of my life--emotionally, spiritually, physically, mentally--are definitely enjoying the journey. Yet I am really uncertain about what comes next. I got a four-year academic scholarship, but I was almost reluctant to take it because I felt like I was signing away the next four years of my life. After thinking and discussing it with my dad (he's my hero) I realized that there is no pressure to do all my studies at Trinity, and that if I feel like I would want a year or semester off, that is not really an issue either.

Then I had an epiphany. I do not think it is so much that I am not wanting to start and finish my university major in four consecutive years, but that I have a blatant fear of committment.

Yep, I'm freaked. I love having countless options before me to toss around. The problem comes when I have to make a (potentially life-changing) decision after reviewing all my choices. I think I am afraid that if i choose wrong, then that's it, I've blown it. I also don't know what I am actually good at, and that thing being something that I also really enjoy doing. So in that sense, I fear that if I choose something and commit to it then I have limited myself and closed doors. But I think the deepest issue here is that I'm afraid that, say I choose something and put my whole heart into it, what happens if I fail? What happens if the thing that I want to do more than anything else in the world is my downfall? I guess that is why, for me, it seems so much easier to have a slew of options and to do a plethora of things mediocre. That way, if I do not succeed at one of those things, I can shrug it off easier and know that it's okay because I didn't try my very hardest.

It seems like a truly sad concept to me.

So, okay, now I've recognized my fears, but the realization has not pushed me any closer to discovering what I want to do with my life or who I want to be. Maybe I'll just do one semester at TWU and then travel or work. Or maybe I'll take a year off in between years. Or maybe I'll transfer to a community college or an international school. The maybe's aren't very reassuring.

I think perhaps what I really want is for someone to sit me down and say, "Look, Janelle: here are your talents. Here are your weaknesses. I think you would love to do ______." But, I really don't want someone else telling me what I should do with my life. Maybe just a little push in the right direction would do it...

Little help?

So there was this time last night when I was like "hey! I should do all my homework on Saturday. That way I'll have a free Sunday and a unstressful Monday!"
So I tried. I really did! I woke up at 8:45 this morning and sat at my computer for THREE HOURS STRAIGHT! I truly did, and I finished a Rels paper.
And then Bekah phoned and Kjer phoned. Yep... and then Kjer came over on the ferry. So we went to Fort Langley and wandered through antique shoppes (you need to spell it with the extra "pe" when you're talking ancient artifacts, people). And we ate lunch at Wendell's and went to a hat store where there (honestly!) were ladies in there buying hats for cocktail parties this weekend! I felt exotic, and like I should be off to the races or something.
Then I came back to my dorm and really thought about my homework! I did! But then it was cooler to go for a hike through the endangered-snail-infested-back-40 to the Town Pantry to buy eggs and oil. Alas, they sold neither, so we bought candy and chips instead.
BUT! then back at Trinity we bought 2 eggs and a small cup of oil with our dinner. And came back to bake some smokin' awesome just-add-eggs-oil-and-water M & M brownies. And then we had to make popcorn too.
And we watched "Bend It Like Beckham" too. which caused us to come back and have a sweet East Indian dance party.
Next we started playing soccer with the leftover balloons from Marie's birthday on Tuesday. And then I remembered that there was still a soccer ball out on the rugby field! so Linoleum (just kidding, it's Linette), Jen, Jess, Lauren and I went out there in the pitch dark. and we got freaked out by this scary white sign, but Jen and Lin and I went pretty close to it.
Next we went to the highway and Jen and I crossed the road. and then lay down on it, like they do in "The Notebook." but that was short lived because lots of cars go zipping down Glover Rd... meanwhile, Jess and Lin were rolling down a hill and Lauren was making sure they didn't fall into the pond (oi, ditch itch!).
There was also this creepy white van and lo and behold, it was unlocked! but we didn't do much there.
we went to the Lower Caf next. and on the heated waiting rack someone's french fries were ready. his name was Vernon. but Vernon wasn't there. So we talked to this English/H-Kin major named Chris who told us the extensive and well-remembered story of Gilgamesh. Poor guy, he faced so many crazy trials in his life, and only succeeded in helping some snake...
Then we stole Vern's fries and booked it. Poor Vernon.
Then we met up with Cameron and Brendan and talked to them in the freezing winter night. It was chilly, it sure was. And we decided to Sac Lauren's Mento. It was a riot!
And that, Professor, is the reason why my new testament papers, my psych assignment, my english reading, and my history studying isn't finished. I'll try again next weekend....

another moment of divinity.
secluded, late at night, and in a room I often pass by, I sat.
i didn't even take a full breath in when Jesus sat in front of me.
and He touched me.
and I am blessed. loved! chosen.
utterly incompetant and frustratingly unfaithful.
but He wants me. me. I could barely breathe now for His face was so close to mine.
i didn't come to pray. not to thank Him or even to talk.
i really didn't even intend to see Him tonight.
and He didn't come to chastise. i don't even remember what He said.
or if He spoke.
but He was there. just... there.
and i wanted--needed--nothing else

For the Lord, our God, He is holy

Living with people can be the most rewarding the most draining experience of your life. There are times when I've laughed so hard at the most ridiculous thing that I felt like I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen to the brain. There are also times when someone cracks out 94.5 The Beat FM and the craziest dance party emerges. And then you start rubbing off on each other. So-and-so from Oregon uses the word "fetus" alot and then, what do ya know, you drop the word casually too, without even meaning it. It's exhilarating, making fun of each other's accents and learning all about the cultural differences in Toronto. And I feel accepted and funny and safe.
But then the quirks and issues arise. Someone makes a self-conscious comment. Another complains about another's habits. It makes me want to scream, "Stop! Let's all go back to week one where we all knew each other's favorite food, silly one-liners, and music genres! Let's just go for group walks where we explore abandoned houses and search for old apples in those stray fields! Let's just snack on sour keys and licorice while watching "Friends" and "Emperor's New Groove" together!"
Man, seriously, those times are so unterrifying.
Maybe I'm afraid of intimacy. Yeah, I probably am. The more I get to know someone the more I realize they are getting to know me, and it honestly can scare the living hell out of me.
I guess it's because I hate not knowing myself, and am concerned that the stunted fragments of me will come out misunderstood or that who I am really is so far from who I want to be. Who I should be. Who I was chosen to be.
I don't trust the Lord as I need to. If I did, if I actually and truly believed that He was Who He says He is, I would have nary a care in the world. I realize when I'm not trusting God, I start to feel like I'm dangling over a ravine on a thin rope. I struggle and squirm and attempt to reach a tree branch or the cliff edge just to gain some sort of feeble control. And knowing me, I probably start getting quite moody, cursing the rocks, the winding river way below, even the very cord that's holding me up. And I'm sure I'm crying by this point too. Then I start getting desperate. I think of all the things I have to offer in order to be placed on safe ground again. I think of all the ways I've messed up and start rambling off hurried and uncontemplated appologies, and praying that I've gathered enough good karma to get me out of this uncomfortable position.
I think the configuration of my life has been tragically marred by a perfectionism that doggedly pursues me, and an inability to exhaustively understand and receive the unadulterated mercy of God Almighty. That I should ever be so proud as to spite His favor and demand that I do it my own, bumbling, pathetic way is devastating. It would be laughable if it wasn't so blatantly appalling.
Ohh... when will I learn?

The Voice of my Beloved!
Through all my heart it thrills,
He leaps upon the mountains,
And skips upon the hills.

For like a roe or young hart,
So swift and strong is He,
He looketh through my window,
And beckoneth unto me.

"Rise up, My love, My fair one,
And come away with Me,
Gone are the snows of winter,
The rains no more we see.

"The flowers are appearing,
The little birds all sing,
The turtle dove is calling,
Through all the land 'tis spring.

"The shoots are on the grapevines,
The figs are on the tree
Arise, My love, My fair one,
And come away with Me.

"Why is My dove still hiding?
When all things else rejoice,
Oh, let Me se thee, fair one,
Oh, let Me hear thy voice".
(Cant. 2:8-14)

I'm not sure what "Cant" is short for... it may be a book in the apocrypha.
Read "Hinds Feet in High Places" by Hannah Hurnard.

When I trod the fields of Eden
Soaking soil 'tween my toes
I forget the cycle of the sun
And that I've shed all clothes
The hungry fingers of the wind
Rub lightly 'cross my face
The freshness of my untanned skin
Shivers as it feels the rain's embrace

I do not see him walking there
His face o'ershadowed by the tree
And I, intriguèd by its fruit
Balk as he falls in step with me

Caught in my shame I make excuse
For drinking up deceit and lies
I pause for breath and seek his glance
A sigh, and tears slip from his eyes

Stunned am I to see his grief
For in my apathy and pride
I am expecting words of grace
But he has turned his face aside

I'm sick to see the pain I've wrought
On man I've named my dearest friend
That I can merely weep and plead
For love once more to make its mend

For ne'er before exists such love
Whose depth can turn the lock of fear
And beckons forth with deep desire
Arise, my Dove, your place is here

-Janelle Kristine, June 5th-

For this I must appologize to Ben Harper (and Jack Johnson), but when I first heard the song it totally seemed like it was someone singin' about Jesus. So the word "sun" has been changed to "Son", but otherwise it's word for word. And it's me.

I know you may not want to see me
On your way down from the clouds
Would you hear me if I told you
That my heart is with you now

She's only happy in the Son
She's only happy in the Son

Did you find what you were after?
The pain and the laughter brought you to your knees
But if the Son sets you free, sets you free
You'll be free indeed

She's only happy in the Son
She's only happy in the Son

Every time I hear you laughing,
Hear you laughing,
It makes me cry
Like the story of life, of your life
Is hello, goodbye

She's only happy in the Son
She's only happy in the Son

The sun shines

and leaves blow

and my hope like autumn

is turning brown.

And I know it seems like

I'm always falling down.

But it does not matter to me although it seems like it should.

It's because I know I'm understood when I hear Him say

"Rest in me, little David and dry all your tears, you can lay down your armor

And have no fear cause I'm always here

When you're tired of running, and I'm all the strength that you need"

It's up hill

both ways,

tomorrow I swear

I won't act this way.

And I know it seems like

that is what I always say.

But it does not matter to me although it seems like it should.

It's because I know I'm understood when I hear Him say

"Rest in me, little David and dry all your tears, you can lay down your armor

And have no fear cause I'm always here

When you're tired of running, cause I'm all the strength that you need.

"You know I want to be like Jesus,

but it seems so very far away,

and when will I learn to obey, obey?

I fear that i have become a hider. That i've been manipulating conversations so that I never have to admit how i'm really feeling. And that instead of clinging to those who have known my struggles, I've been skirting around their presence and fleeing from contact and conversation that might lead to the revelation of my soul. and the One who knows me most intimately--I've allowed myself to live under a cloak of shame and walk only in the shadowy outskirts of his throneroom. no wonder i'm suffering so!

"I need a miracle, someone to help me help myself..."

Some times I would fight against the norm. Occasionally I'd forget my loathings of mediocrity and would have to start fighting all over again.

So things have been sorta back to our "norm" (if we can even call it that) this week. Classes 8-12 Monday to Wednesday this week, final spanish exam wednesday. tonight is our talent show at this cafe in antigua as well as my friend's birthday dinner. tomorrow we have service (my group is helping on this farm in a few cities over) after spanish and some easter entertainment night tomorrow night. wednesday in the afternoon is cultural day, learning about the way they do easter down here. Wednesday night MIGHT be free (please!). Thursday we are making these sawdust carpets in the streets for 5 hours and then I have PMG (Peer Mentoring Group) and then i'm leading worship after supper. Friday is the huge processional day in ANtigua and I also have a one-on-one with my mentor. I am tired just thinking about all of it! this past week was really draining, so i'm losing my momentum, and my focus too, i think. and being tired has left me open to so much attack. but the vulnerability has drawn me in closer to Jesus. I wanna praise a little louder than before... I wanna lift my hands higher than before... I wanna dance a little longer than before. Jesus! all for Jesus...

I'm beginning to feel worn out. maybe i just need more sleep. maybe they're just packing tons into the weeks. but i've felt like i've been missing the movements of God that have been happening in the group. I don't feel gyped so much as i am scared that i've left God hanging. I keep sitting down to make things right, but just walking away feeling unfulfilled. maybe being fulfilled shouldn't be my ultimate goal. no, no of course it shouldn't! I want all of me dead! More than anything! I'm not going to try to cram 2 spirits into my being. All of me MUST go! I can't pursue Him and chase my own worldliness also! How can i surrender more and more? What walls must be destroyed? i can't even really see them anymore, but i think i'm standing SO close to them that I just haven't recognized them. it's time for some good clean-up and ... I don't know. Fresh wind. Rain... so many of the things that people have been "randomly" saying and that i've been "coincidentally" reading has mentioned rain. and wow, rain... I don't know, but maybe it's not even the gentle, refreshing rain i need. maybe it's the pounding, screaming, cleansing, flood-gates rain. pray for rain. for showers and showers of mighty rain!

Let there be an awakening.