I walk in the air, between the rain, through myself and back again. Where? I don't know.

I'm so tired that I'm nauseous. I'm leaning my head back against the pillow, but the pillow is part of a conspiracy to make me think the world is going to stop spinning and toss me off. It never does, but it jerks and sways teasingly...

I need to sleep, but instead I'm here blogging because I'm finally in enough of a stupor that I frankly don't care if what I write here is absolute drivel. That said, I don't PLAN to write drivel.

I'm changing again, or perhaps I changed when I wasn't looking and now I'm seeing the effects. People who get on my nerves are earning no more than a suppressed sigh, and I'm doing my best to be kind to them. My sarcasm is nearly gone, even when I'm thinking. (That's about time, too... I've been working on it since I was sixteen, I think.) I'm less worried about my future. I have complete peace that God is taking care of me. Of course, I'm not sure the feeling of peace will last, but true peace is more than a feeling; it's a deep-seated trust in God, which I now realize is far more important than most of the skills we learn that are supposed to aid us in life. If we trusted God half as much as we trust computers, our cars, our families, and our friends, we'd worry a lot less.
If you look back over your life, you'll see that there's not a single time God broke faith with you. I'm sure there were times when you thought He had, but when it all became clear, you saw that He had been working it out all along.
It all boils down to this, I suppose: we've got to stop acting like you've got so much control and responsibility in our own lives. We are most certainly accountable for how we use our time and talents, but we're not charged with making things happen. God is the One Who will provide us with a path. We only have to be willing to walk it with Him.
Okay, enough of that particular rant. Now let me say that my desktop computer just hates me. Thank you.
The black cat from next door came and visited my cat today, and they sat on opposite sides of the French doors, staring silently at each other, not moving, barely breathing. I've no idea what they were establishing, but it was eerie to watch two graceful animals stare each other down coldly, imperiously, as though they had the rest of their lives to spend in that moment. Then my aunt walked by and the cats and I were torn from our separate reveries. So sad.
Bedtime for Em. I hope you're all doing well, and if you're not, feel free to give me a call and I'll do my best to listen. ; )

posted by Emma @ Saturday, September 27, 2003 0 comments

Easy To Be Wrong

If you understood how hard it was for me to learn to trust you
If you knew how much it meant to me when I finally did
If you could remember me the way I used to be
You might be sorry for some of this
When did you decide not to care about other people?
When did you decide that yours was the only valid perspective?
When did you decide that we were beneath you?
When did you decide that everyone was unless you deemed otherwise?
How can you live like that?
Why would you want to?
What's the attraction?
Sheer unaccountability?
Freedom?
A license to ignore your emotions?
Elitists don't make ministers.
They just don't.
They make rulers.
And God doesn't need someone else to sit in judgment on His children.
So I ought to just shut up and let it be.
I should just leave this and turn the other way....
No.
I can't.
I have to at least understand it
Pull it apart at the seams so I can see how it works
Find out where the line is between breaking rules and breaking trust
Draw my own boundaries again
Find myself back at the beginning where I left her
Remember that someone breaking trust is no excuse for not trusting
Remember that I am flawed and broken
Remember that we're all in desperate need of grace
And I'm in desperate need of distance from you
And I'm getting it.
It's the only thing saving my brain.
No, wait, that's lack of sleep.
It's so easy to be wrong, isn't it?

Copyright ©2003, Emma N. Davis

posted by Emma @ Thursday, September 25, 2003 0 comments

Now for some really good song lyrics that I didn't write. (Translation: I have nothing interesting to say, but I'll feel terribly guilty if I don't keep up my blog, so I'm posting something you don't care about because I can say it means something to me. Hey, it was either that or a rant about how much I love the color blue. *grins*)

Say Won't You Say
by Jennifer Knapp

Oh say won't You say
Say that You love me
With love ever, love, love everlasting
All my devotion put into motion by You

Every morning I have the chance to rise and give my all
Every afternoon I find I have only wasted time in light of Your awe

Isn't love amazing
I forgot how to speak
Knowing You are near and
I am finally free

Oh say won't You say
Say that You love me
With love ever, love, love everlasting
All my devotion put into motion by You

My eyes fear to close
This reckless letting go is hard to bear
On the edge of all I need
Still I cling to what I see
And what have I there?

Bred my own disaster
Who have I to blame?
All I need is waiting
To be fanned to flame

Oh say won't You say
Say that You love me
With love ever, love, love everlasting
All my devotion put into motion by You

I open up my eyes to see You standing there
Oh, I can barely breathe
I can hardly bear all the love that I feel for You inside
I hope You feel it now
Some, somehow

Oh say won't You say
Say that You love me
With love ever, love, love everlasting
All my devotion put into motion by You
By You, yeah

posted by Emma @ Wednesday, September 24, 2003 0 comments

Okay, good news. Surgery one is over! I'm almost fully recovered, and thankfully this time things went very well. If you want details, call me or something. (Not that it's interesting... but who knows, we might end up talking about something interesting.) Surgery two hasn't been scheduled yet, but we're looking at six months or so.

I'm bored. I want to go out and play, and I'm not allowed to. I have to stay home, and I'm not allowed to walk around a lot. This would be fine, except that a) it's hot and b) I have no company. Right now my aunt is taking a nap. I would keep myself amused, but I have to do that all day tomorrow, since I'm being forced to stay home. *growls*

If this heat keeps up, I won't be able to wear my new leather jacket at all. *sighs* By the time I'm running tech for VT, it had better be frigid out, or I'm going to have a serious chat with the weather man. Or God, depending on who controls the weather. Wait... It must be God, or the weather man would actually know what he's talking about.

Stan called me from the concert, and I could hear Trav in the background. *sniff* I wanted to go. Men, stupid mens, getting a hotel room so I couldn't stay. I console myself with this fact: I had surgery anyway. So as I was saying, he called and left an energetic message, and what I heard over the music was "WISH YOU WERE HERE, WE'RE CLOSE ENOUGH TO TOUCH THEM!!! BYE!!!"
Their ears are still ringing, I hear.

Here, take this for the road.


"Siddhartha's of Suburbia," Josh Joplin Group

Stop wasting your words
Convincing yourself that no one hurts
Time killed the rebel that could not change with time
And fashion placed a flower at the image in our mind
Of the switchblade saint surrounded
Carving out his prose
And mumbling what he knows
Siddhartha's of Suburbia
Stop wasting your words
Convincing yourself that no one hurts
And dance away your death
And don't be alarmed there's nothing left
The archetype of rock-n-roll is dying in his bed
While the debutantes deny it and set their clocks ahead
'Cause every night is New Years and every day is dull
Long live rock-n-roll
Siddhartha's of Suburbia
Stop wasting your words
Convincing yourself that no one hurts
And dance away your death
And don't be alarmed there's nothing left
It's all all right
Just hold on
They used to say the world was flat
If you went too far you'd fall
Just beyond the cul-de-sac
The houses and the mall it's beautiful
The future is a stereo that eats your favorite tapes
The soundtrack to your youth that cannot be replaced
So hold on to every song before they disappear
Your future is almost here
Siddhartha's of Suburbia
Stop wasting your words
Convincing yourself that no one hurts
And dance away your death
And don't be alarmed there's nothing left
It's all all right
It's all all right
Just hold on tight
Just hold on tight

posted by Emma @ Sunday, September 21, 2003 0 comments

To all the youth in my church who are struggling... not that you'll be reading this... but... I do love you guys. *sighs*

"Simon," Lifehouse
Catch your breath
Hit the wall
Scream out loud
As you start to crawl
Back in your cage
The only place
Where they will leave you alone
'Cause the weak will seek the weaker
'Til they've broken them
Could you get it back again
Would it be the same
Fulfillment to their lack of strength
At your expense
Left you with no defense
They tore it down
And I have felt the same as you
I've felt the same as you
I've felt the same
Locked inside the only place
Where you feel sheltered
Where you feel safe
You lost yourself
In your search
To find something else to hide behind
The fearful always preyed upon your confidence
Did they see the consequence
They pushed you around
The arrogant build kingdoms made of the different ones
Breaking them 'til they've become just another crown
And I have felt the same as you
I've felt the same as you
I've felt the same as you
I've felt the same
Refuse to feel
Anything at all
Refuse to slip
Refuse to fall
Can't be weak
Can't stand still
You watch your back
'Cause no one will
You don't know why
They had to go this far
Traded your worth for these scars
For your only company
Don't believe the lies
That they have told to you
Not one word was true
You're alright
You're alright
You're alright
And I have felt the same as you
I've felt the same as you
I've felt the same as you
I've felt the same

posted by Emma @ Wednesday, September 17, 2003 0 comments

God Bless America

So he came to see me today. He called and asked if I could come hang out with him, and instead I invited him over. He drove by twice, horn blaring, before parking his car somewhere down the street and heading for my house.

He's so different now. The long, tightly curled hair is a close-cut helmet that lends startling clarity to his now-gaunt face. His eyes, which used to be so sleepy, are now wide-open and alert at every passing noise. He checks his back every few minutes, and watches my face intently. If my eyes wander from his face, he turns his body to follow the gaze of my eyes. He's short, still, but muscle is evident for the first time in his life. Gone are the long sleeves and beat-up khakis he used to wear, replaced by a white tank top (Oh, God, he has a tattoo of a burning cross... says it symbolizes his conflicting heart as regards religion) and blue cords. He kicks his sandals off at the first opportunity, standing barefoot in the setting sun, eyes almost closing as he drags on a harsh cigarette. Even that has changed. The soft brown cloves that used to almost put me to sleep with their intoxicating scent have been ousted by these things that make me wrinkle my nose and wave him further away from me... he's choking me.
After a while I wander over to the plant that hangs over the fence and gather a few clusters of tiny purple flowers, which I shred slowly and scatter on the cement porch.
It's a while before he asks me about the war... Somehow we get around to my opinion... After he's told me about the front lines, how night vision goggles don't really work, and how it becomes so natural to have your gun with you all the time... And I turn my head and hold up my hand in the now-famous gesture from decades ago: PEACE.
F**K that!!! He yells, and I shrug.
I've been supportive the entire time he was gone, I remind him, and he reminds me that he doesn't need this now. He's going back; don't I know that?
I don't know that.
Well, he is, and I should have known. The US isn't going to leave Iraq for a very long time. We've got too much money there now.
I just keep shredding little purple flowers and scattering them on the porch. Soon it looks like it's been raining flowers and leaves.
He leaves after almost an hour, hugging me tightly and telling me he'll come see me at the school tomorrow. He strides away, and from the back, I'd never guess it was him. His walk is gone, and he looks both ways before venturing from my lawn.
He hates the army, he said.
He hates this town, yet he loves it.
He's gone.
And I walk back inside, crushing purple flowers under my feet.
God Bless America.

posted by Emma @ Monday, September 15, 2003 0 comments

All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again.
Ecclesiastes 1:7

posted by Emma @ Monday, September 15, 2003 0 comments

Okay, I am officially in love with the thrift store. I bought two Banana Republic shirts (gorgeous, both of them), a Levi shirt that is just very adorable, an Element jersey (which I actually needed for another outfit, can you imagine?) and another shirt that's some preppy company but it's a great shirt. *drumroll* Ten bucks, people.

Robin, major thanks.

Bethany, you win, after all these years.

My grandma was pleased but, "Em, you have a lot of tops!"
"I do. But I wanted more, and I just got rid of all those clothes, anyway."
"Hmm."
Psh. All I need now is a khaki corduroy skirt. Hee hee.

I suppose I could talk about R.E.S.I.S.T., but I don't want to. If you were there, I know you don't share my opinion (entirely), and if you weren't ... :-X

I love you all very very much. I think bargains make me cuddly. *grins*

posted by Emma @ Monday, September 15, 2003 0 comments

My God, my God, why are your children so dogmatic?

This is the essence of an AIM conversation between me and David. He type the thing up for his blog, however, so I'm posting it like this. I've made a few changes. If you want to see the original, go see his blog.

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So the sermon today at David's church was on sexual immorality. The preacher was making all these comments about how humans are too weak to withstand any sexual temptation whatsoever. And the only way to do it is by following the Bible which says "Flee from sexual immorality" (1 Cor 6:18). So any situation where a male and female are alone is bad, because you're going to give in, and he was so ready to stand up and scream "What are you talking about?!" This is just so wrong ... I've spent more time alone with various males than I care to think about, and this other is complete ... you know.

Then there was this whole five-minute session about the blindness of Christianity. Which isn't what HE called it, naturally; it's what David calls it. The blindness of Christianity being, of course, the idea that anything non-Christian cannot be good. Because, hey, they're all evil sinners. And they have nothing to teach us. Horrible, evil people. Losers, every single one of them.

And then there was this line about myths: Myths don't apply to our lives, but the Bible does. That's why the Bible isn't a myth. David wanted to throw a dictionary at him, and I have to say I know the feeling. You know those times when I turn and look at Brian and he and Stan are looking expectantly at me, and we all know what's up? I think this is along the same lines. A myth is meant to apply to life! That's why they're written in the first place!!!

I'm not sure I can do this whole dogma thing. I keep coming up with all these sarcastic remarks. And I have far too many questions for my own "good" in this church. *sigh* I hate this. There are good people in that church. Smart people. And they won't ask any questions that might bring any attention to the fact that there are philosophies and questions about the Bible! I like the basis on which the church is formed. I just don't think it's being executed entirely properly. One of David's friends put it best: "Humans jack things up. We touch it, it breaks."

So much for Acts 17:11.

If we're afraid to question our faith, we don't have faith to begin with. David had someone tell him, "If evolution is the reason someone loses faith in God, they had no faith to begin with." And he's an atheist.

I hate this feeling, though. That I can't stay, can't go ... I'm trapped between conscience and more conscience, wondering where God is in the midst of it, and wanting to know why people are satisfied with what they have when it sucks! I dunno. Sometimes I get the urge to just leave. I mean, honestly, really, once and for all, leave. It's scary, really.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It seems so pointless to spend time pointing fingers at other Christians. But evangelistic Christianity means you have to point fingers. And denominationalism means that you're going to point fingers at every little difference. What's worse is it's based in self-righteousness. One tiny problem: we aint righteous. We're not even decent, most of us, which is why we turn to God to save our sorry souls. We need Him, and the fact that we admit that does not make us qualified to sit in judgment. The worst part is when we absolutely believe in our judments and expect God to behave as we expect Him to. If we could understand the mind of God, we'd be God instead of Him.

But, oh wait, that's heretical thinking. No decent Christian would think that!

"You know you've made God in your own image when He hates all the same people you do."
--Anonymous

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This part, unfortunately, doesn't work in anything BUT conversation format. Don't choke reading it, okay? Let me be the heretic, and you stay safe by not judging me.

Emma: Do they say you can't listen to any music that isn't Christian?
David: No. They do, however, claim that any TRUE disciple will, by his own choice.
Emma: Aha. Well, my church takes it a step further and says we CAN'T.
David: *sigh* The only reason they don't? They can't find any Scripture that says not to, so they call it "a Romans 14 thing." They have a NAME for stuff they can't find Scripture condemning. Well, maybe it's my name, but the point stands. It's a way of guilting you into doing what they want you to do.
Emma: They're good at the guilt thing, aren't they?
David: Yes.
Emma: Besides, I figure I'm going to Hell for watching movies, so...
David: Sounds good. We'll do lunch.
Emma: Okay. Fried. Everything will be fried.
Emma: *drops her head into her hands* It's such a mess, this thing.



Bottom line, though: I love you guys, I love our church, I love our pastors, and I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving when I go to Boston, either, I'm transferring.
However.
Viva la revolución!

posted by Emma @ Monday, September 08, 2003 0 comments

Three Minutes

All right, all, a new original piece by yours truly. It should be a bit more palatable than the last one, though I meant every word of that one. In any case, here you are.

"You have three minutes to blow me away"
I say
And then I slip another tab of music onto my tongue
It starts slow and sweet and sucks me in
Tickling my neuroses with the most perfect words
By the time it's too close for comfort
I'm too high to back down
I close my eyes and drown in the meaning
Slip into the dreaming
And I'm free
Free to feel what I've been denying
Free to follow all the laughter with crying
Free to let it out of my control
It's all true, the things they say
It's all about love and life and living day to day
With the knowledge that "We were meant to live for so much more"
There are a million and one things we've always dreamed of doing
"Hand Me Down" makes me fear my dreams
"Amy Hit the Atmosphere" makes me long to try
And in the end it's my own songs that push me to go on
This is what I want, and I finally know it
So music isn't about feeling good
It isn't about a beat
It's about what we are, who we've become, what we get and give and live
And why
Everything we are
Anything we feel
We can communicate
Encapsulate
Into these few precious minutes
"You have three minutes to blow me away"
I say
And then I slip another tab of music onto my tongue

Copyright ©2004, Emma N. Davis

posted by Emma @ Sunday, September 07, 2003 0 comments

So. Good preaching today. Very thought-provoking, very insightful, very uncomfortable at times.

I haven't much interesting to say except that tomorrow night I'm going to Benicia with Robin. She's having a Deaf Bible study night at her house, and she's graciously offered to drive me to her house tomorrow night after work and haul me back into town Tuesday when she comes back to work.

I know. I should learn to drive. But when I'm in Boston, I'll have the last laugh... At all the people who are driving. Forget last laugh, I'll have one now: Muwahahah.

Er, David excluded. O:-)

Here are some lyrics that I like. Take 'em or leave 'em.

"My Last Breath," Evanescence
Hold onto me love
You know I can't stay long
All I wanted to say was I love you and I'm not afraid
Can you hear me
Can you feel me in your arms
Holding my last breath
Safe inside myself
Are all my thoughts of you
Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight
I'll miss the winter
A world of fragile things
Look for me in the white forest
Hiding in a hollow tree
Come find me
I know you hear me
I can taste it in your tears
Holding my last breath
Safe inside myself
Are all my thoughts of you
Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight
Closing your eyes to disappear
You pray your dreams will leave you here
But still you wake and know the truth
No one's there
Say goodnight
Don't be afraid
Calling me
Calling me as you fade to black

posted by Emma @ Sunday, September 07, 2003 0 comments

King Of Pain

(Lyrics by Sting, Song from The Police)

There's a little black spot on the sun today
It's the same old thing as yesterday
There's a black hat caught in a high tree top
There's a flag-pole rag and the wind won't stop

I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running 'round my brain
I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign
But it's my destiny to be the king of pain

There's a little black spot on the sun today
That's my soul up there
It's the same old thing as yesterday
That's my soul up there
There's a black hat caught in a high tree top
That's my soul up there
There's a flag-pole rag and the wind won't stop
That's my soul up there

I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running 'round my brain
I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign
But it's my destiny to be the king of pain

There's a fossil that's trapped in a high cliff wall
That's my soul up there
There's a dead salmon frozen in a waterfall
That's my soul up there
There's a blue whale beached by a springtime's ebb
That's my soul up there
There's a butterfly trapped in a spider's web
That's my soul up there

I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running 'round my brain
I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign
But it's my destiny to be the king of pain

There's a king on a throne with his eyes torn out
There's a blind man looking for a shadow of doubt
There's a rich man sleeping on a golden bed
There's a skeleton choking on a crust of bread

King of pain

There's a red fox torn by a huntsman's pack
That's my soul up there
There's a black-winged gull with a broken back
That's my soul up there
There's a little black spot on the sun today
It's the same old thing as yesterday

I have stood here before in the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running 'round my brain
I guess I always thought you could end this reign
But it's my destiny to be the king of pain

King of pain
King of pain
King of pain
I'll always be King of pain

posted by Emma @ Thursday, September 04, 2003 0 comments

Screaming to the Wind

You make me sick
And I sicken myself
I want to scream at you
And slap myself
And cry
And make you listen
You are no judge!
You are not righteous
And your holiness is not your own
It is a granted cloak of blood you did not shed
You did not deserve
You don't even value!
You cannot measure its worth
It covers your every sin
Your every transgression
But don't you dare act like that means you don't sin
Don't do, think, say, feel, mean
Horrible things
If you were held accountable for your sins
As they are thus far held accountable for theirs
You would writhe in shame
And don't forget that.
We are not judges
Your moral code had best apply to you and only you
Only Scripture is given to judge
And you are a wielder of Scripture first on your own soul
Before you may sear another with it
Can you stand under its penetrating edge?
Can you stare yourself in the face and not weep?
No.
And neither can I.
No one who has eyes to see themselves clearly is harsh with others
I pray for mercy
Not to be granted to me
But for me to grant to others
I hate that tendency in me to judge
I cringe at the things I've said over the years
How absolutely I've believed in the validity of my scathing
Harsh
Hateful
Judgments
And I cry hot tears of remorse.
Oh, God, soften my heart
And teach me to love
And teach me to have empathy
And teach me to pray more than I preach
And teach me to listen more than I speak
And teach me to care for souls more than I care for humans
And oh, God, give me the grace to lead the life I crave
To be the woman you've called me to be
And teach me to be thankful for the truth
And oh, God, hold me close.
I'm so afraid.

Copyright ©2003, Emma N. Davis

posted by Emma @ Wednesday, September 03, 2003 0 comments

I temporarily lost faith this blog. I couldn't for the life of me understand why anyone would want to read it. I haven't posted anything interesting so far. I thought for a moment that everyone kept wanting to see if I'd post anything interesting, that it was the suspense that kept you coming back, but then I realized that it's either dogged loyalty or sheer boredom, neither one of which I'm going to exhaust by being tiresome and small-minded.

So here we go again.

Sunday afternoon my cell phone rang. It was Bethany calling to tell me that Dad had decided to go to Yosemite and wanted me to go, as well. It was to be Mom, Dad, Bethy, and Nate. I said yes. So it was that I spent labor day weekend at Yosemite, which wasn't actually that crowded. I think there were very few things of consequence that happened on the trip.

However.

We had to sneak Teddy Bear into the hotel. For those of you who may not know, Bear is a toy poodle. Somehow I got the job of buttoning her into my jacket and passing her off as my chest. Successful, if your only goal was getting the dog safely into the hotel. Not, if you consider me having to walk around with a dog in my jacket. All in all, it was hilarious, and if you want the full story, ask me later. It's funnier if I tell it. And hey, ask Bethy for her version, too.

The other thing was that we discovered what Peter Furler (lead singer, Newsboys) does for his day job: he works at a Denny's halfway between here and Yosemite. Really. I think Phil Joel (bassist, Newsboys, he of the long, blond curly hair) was working in the back so that he wouldn't be recognized.

Oh, and trying to cross what is either a small river or a very large creek across wet, slimy rocks while you are wearing flip-flops may be amazingly fun, but it's prone to get you stuck and scare your friends half to death. Aight?

Yosemite is pretty.

Goodnight for now. Be warned, I may be back.

posted by Emma @ Tuesday, September 02, 2003 0 comments