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Wednesday, December 2, 2009

in which I talk about piles and hope you understand

Close being the key word here.

Cause really, I am not doing fine. Friends, kind people who care, keep asking me if I am okay and the truth of the matter is that I am not okay.

But will I be?

Yes.

And something that makes me feel a little better along the way is solving problems.

Huh? you might wonder.

See, I get this feeling that there is this reserve of Stuff I Need to Make. And it's this pile that is sitting somewhere already, outside of the realm of time and small details like that; it's whole and it's beautiful and somehow my journey gives me the tools to take it from that pile into a tangible pile.

A song that I can play.
I picture that I can see.
Text that I can read.
A conversation that I can articulate.

And all the materials are in existence already. All the words are here, it's just a matter of finding the right combination of syntax. All the notes have been around and accessible since the birds first started singing about how morning makes them feel way back when, it's just a matter of arranging them into just the right story that reflects me.

So I get to work.

I arrange and I rearrange and I chisel away until there is something that I think I have successfully grabbed from the Stuff I Need to Make pile and placed it securely into the Stuff I Have Made pile.

And maybe when the former pile is gone and the latter pile is edited and recorded, it will be time to go home. Or maybe home will just be a bigger pile of Stuff I Need to Make and I will realize that the journey is never realized with an ending or a drop off or a period; that the straight line I thought I was walking was circular all the while and the way God has put eternity into our hearts means that there isn't a The End, but there is a great big Happily Ever After and after and after and after and we'll keep making our stories last in the things we tell each other and the tears we cry and the songs we sing when we'd forgotten we could cause all the while we are looking for somebody to tell us that it meant something, that it still means something, and that it's a good something.

Because it is.

8 comments:

Emily said...

I do understand about the piles... I love the way that you've expressed it. The pile of things I need to make is starting to dry-rot and disintegrate... oh, someday.

And here's hoping that fine will find you sooner rather than later.

Jessica Latshaw said...

thanks, Emily. and I don't think your piles are rotting or anything like that--I am believing that they are held in a nice air-tight spot in which mold cannot grow.

merry said...

I hate that you are not fine. I hate when those I love are not fine. It just makes me so sad but I love how you are still able to crate beauty and find beauty even though you are not fine. Cause when I am not fine I pretty much can't do anything but drool.

merry said...

and when I said crate beauty I meant create. It's not like you find something beautiful and keep it trapped in your room or something.

Jessica Latshaw said...

that made me laugh, merry. maybe I should start crating bits of beauty. then I could really feel like I am in control...

sarah said...

i agree with merry..

Anonymous said...

Writing is often very therapeutic when I am not fine, but sometimes I cannot even do that. Sometimes all you can do is put one foot in front of the other and trust that God will get you through it and bring good out of it.

Kathie

Jenna Latshaw said...

love the poem and drawing. miss you!