Tongue-Tied

I feel trapped inside my head
With words I dare not speak.
If I voice them,
You might hear,
And then you'd know everything.
Like a puzzle
You would place the pieces
That are so easy to match,
But I'm not ready
To be solved.
I only feel safe
Behind this secret -
I don't care
If that makes me weak.
These words are mine,
Known only to me.

~Heidi Joens

After every interaction between us

It's there -

A knot of anger twisting inside me

Made from a string of hope

Meddled by imprecations

I make on myself

For being so daft to hope for such a thing.

It swells until my breathing quickens

And I nearly choke on the tangled mess.

But my composure I keep as my strength I regain -

Stronger the longer

You are away.

The knot unravels

And I nearly forget

All the trouble this was -

Until we meet again.

You will never change,

And as well you will never know

How I suffer each time we get close.

~Heidi Joens

I love field experience in being a teacher!!

"Hi Ms. Joens!"

I stopped in the middle of writing Math problems on the board and turned to see José, Carolina, and Leo, three of the 4th graders in the class I assist in twice a week. Now crossing the room to meet them, I returned the greeting, "Good morning guys!"

"Can we come in?"

Their teacher had stepped out of the room and left me with the task of creating Math warm-up problems before her class arrived for the day. Usually she had them wait outside in a line if she was not yet in the room. Not wanting to disrupt her morning routine, I hesitated in my response, debating whether or not it was a good idea.

"Well...I'm not so sure your teacher wants you in the room without her here."

"But you're a teacher!" Leo protested.

"Actually I'm not quite there yet. Still studying to be one.."

"But you look like one," José added.

I laughed at this and over dramatically brushed some hair back with my hand while using the other to gesture toward my clothes saying, "I try, I try."

They all laughed at my sudden change in character and then asked it they would be having another sub today (they had had one the past two days).

"No, your real teacher's back today!"

They were grateful for that, and I decided to inform them that I would have the chance to teach them a Math lesson a week from today. "But, you will have another sub on that day," I told them.

"Oh man! Too many subs!" Leo complained.

"But I'll be here too!" I tried to offer.

"Yeah but you're never here the whole day!" José reminded me (I only stay until 10am)

I couldn't help but smile because nearly every day that I am there someone lets me know they are disappointed that I always have to leave "so early". It's nice to know they like me!

"I'll tell you what, I will let you in if you promise to sit quietly for your teacher and start those Math problems on the board."

"Yes ma'am!"

They really are such a polite bunch.

Those kids are getting comfortable with me now and are raising their hands asking for "Ms. Joens" when they don't understand a problem and are always trying to tell me little stories and figure out some more information about me. As I was standing by Ana's desk today she asked, "Do you still have my bunny?" About a week ago she had drawn me a picture of a bunny eating carrots with the words "From Ana". It was so precious I had to keep it. "Yes," I reassured her with a smile, "I have it at my apartment."

And as always whenever I have to leave, the class burst out in a chorus of "Bye Ms. Joens!" and "See you next week!" all wildly waving their arms. They truly have captured my hearts and I know I am going to love, absolutely love, being a teacher! :)

"...What a transfiguration it is to love! Notary clerks become gods. And the little shrieks, the pursuits in the grass, the waists encircled by stealth, the jargon that is melody, the adoration that breaks through in the way a syllable is said, those cherries snatched from one pair of lips by another - it all catches fire and turns into celestial glories. Beautiful girls lavish their charms with sweet prodigality. We imagine it will never end. Philosophers, poets, painters behold these ecstasies and don't know what to make of them, they are so dazzling." - Victor Hugo in Les Miserables

There was never a man like Rhett

I can't quite describe what it was like reading through Gone With the Wind. Yes, it was a long book (959 pages!), but so worth the read. I learned so much from the novel, not just about the characters but about the time period. The Civil War completely changed our nation, and this novel, as author Margaret Mitchell says, is not one of romance, but rather a story about survival.Even with that being said, I cannot tell you how entertaining it was to read the dialogue between Scarlett and Rhett. I have never before read about characters such as these...they're so unique and so... devilish. I included a bit of their dialogue here just to give a sample of their interchange,but honestly, you have to read the book and get to know their characters in order to truly appreciate it.

It makes me sad to think about how when this book was published in the late 1930's it was as popular as Twilight is today. Can you imagine everyone you know picking up a book that is almost 1000 pages, written the way it is, and actually reading through the whole thing just for pleasure? These things don't happen anymore, unless the book involves vampires and teen romance. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed reading the Twilight Saga just as much as the next person, but what has happened to our desire to truly read?? I am the only one my age that Iknow of who has actually read Gone With the Wind, and I can honestly say it is my favorite novel! And because of how unpopular it is today, I feel like it is my own little secret. Such brilliance lies within those pages.

"I don't care for such personal conversation," she said coolly and managed a frown. "Besides, I'd just as soon kiss a pig."

"There's no accounting for tastes and I've always heard the Irish were partial to pigs - kept them under their beds, in fact. But, Scarlett, you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. All your beaux have respected you too much, though God knows why, or they have been too afraid of you to really do right by you. The result is that you are unendurably uppity. You should be kissed and by someone who knows how."

The conversation was not going the way she wanted it. It never did when she was with him. Always, it was a duel in which she was worsted.

"And I suppose you think you are the proper person?" she asked with sarcasm, holding her temper in check with difficulty.

"Oh, yes, if I cared to take the trouble," he said carelessly. "They say I kiss very well."

"Oh," she began, indignant at the slight to her charms. "Why, you..." But her eyes fell in sudden confusion. He was smiling, but in the dark depths of his eyes a tiny light flickered for a brief moment, like a small raw flame.

"Of course, you've probably wondered why I never tried to follow up that chaste peck I gave you, the day I brought you that bonnet - "

"I have never - "

"Then you aren't a nice girl, Scarlett, and I'm sorry to hear it. All really nice girls wonder when men don't try to kiss them. They know they shouldn't want them to and they know they must act insulted if they do, but just the same, they wish the men would try... Well, my dear, take heart. Some day, I will kiss you and you will like it. But not now, so I beg you not to be too impatient."

--Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

I was skimming through my journal today and came across this entry I made last June. I thought I might as well put it here...I still remember how scared and sick I felt after this dream.

Saturday, 6-12-10

Last night I had a dream that was absolutely terrifying. It was the end of the world, catastrophes were happening, and me and my family needed to leave our home immediately. It deeply depressed me that a life I had built would be left behind to be obliterated in destruction. All the things I had worked so hard for: mementos, memories, photographs, records of what I did and who I was. I knew there was no time but I grabbed a suitcase and hurriedly shoved things in from left and right. Everything I saw was something I wanted, something I had to keep. It was hard to make decisions and soon I couldn't think because I was so dizzy. My family rushed me to the car and I threw my things in the back - I had packed more than the other five combined. We jumped in and raced off, for danger was right at our heels.
It was the end of the world - the end of the world! Nothing would be the same. I started reviewing in my mind the things I had grabbed, and suddenly I realized - I had forgotten my Bible. It was only the single most important thing to own in the end times and I, in my haste to preserve the memory of my own life, had left it behind. I felt absolutely sick realizing my mistake, for it truly proved where my priorities were. How could I have been so selfish - so foolish? How would God forgive me then?


This was just interesting to me because especially recently I have been realizing that my priorities are not where they need to be. I've been letting myself get distracted by just a whirlwind of life and have not been putting God first before everything. This is not ok.

Dangerous Game

Roll the dice

And here we play

At this table -

A dangerous game.

The odds are only

In your favor,

At any moment I could lose.

I passed quietly

Behind your chair,

And then you turned

And saw me there.

You grabbed me quickly

And with a sultry smile

Placed in my fist

The cursed die.

I should have cast them

To the ground,

Should have ignored

Your wink and grin.

Your touch should have never

Caused blood to rush,

Coloring cheeks

With a rosy blush.

But this game I play

As your invitation convinced

Me - I was blind

To your few cheap tricks.

Rolling and tossing,

I continue this bet,

But my name is

Amateur,

And I lose all I get.

Please tell me to quit,

Shoo me away,

I've had enough of casinos,

Enough of cards,

I'm done with suits and cigarettes.

Tell me,

For I haven't believed yet.

~Heidi Joens

"No sooner did I see that his attention was riveted on them, and that I might gaze without being observed, than my eyes were drawn involuntarily to his face; I could not keep their lids under control; they would rise, and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking - a precious, yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony; a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless."

Well put, Charlotte Bronte, well put.

Chasm

Chasm by Flyleaf (<-- click the name to hear the song)

When I first heard this song, the only part that really stood out to me was the chorus:

"Please, give me something, I'm so thirsty, I'm so thirsty.

Please, let me warn them, don't you come here, don't bring anyone here."

I had just been going through the whole CD not paying too much attention to all the lyrics of each song, but these words rang clear as I drove around Arlington that day. I played it again trying to figure out what on earth the song was talking about. I actually googled the meaning later to see how other people had interpreted the song. In doing this I found the most likely explanation to be that she was talking about hell. Still, that song was kind of weird to me and I wasn't exactly sure what to think of it.

This all happened a year ago or so, but this past Sunday I was reminded of this song again. My pastor gave a sermon on hell and the reality of it as he was countering beliefs of universalism currently being spread by people such as Rob Bell. One of the scriptures he referenced was Luke 16:19-31, which is the story of the rich man and Lazarus. It is a very interesting passage and I encourage you to read it.

If this can give you any kind of glimpse into the eternal torment of hell, just imagine what kind of fate we are all rescued from (when I say "all", I mean fellow believers, that is not a universal statement). It just boggles my mind the kind of request that the rich man asks of Abraham: "Have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire." (v. 24) Just the tip of his finger?? That's the kind of refreshment the rich man is looking for? How desperate of a state must he be in to see a touch of a wet finger as some sort of relief?

Reading on as the man finds out that a great chasm has been fixed so that no one may cross over between heaven and hell, you'll see that he asks,

27"'Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father's house,

28 for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.'

29 Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.'

30 'No, father Abraham,' he said, 'but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.'

31 He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'"

Wow, can you imagine the regret he has for having not believed when he was alive on the Earth and had the chance to be saved? And how desperate he is to see his family saved! But it is true that we have the Word of God here telling us the truth and it is up to us to believe it. Does this stir anything in you as you consider the fates of so many people we are sharing this Earth with today?? We are on a rescue mission. We need to beg of them to consider the gospel.

Do you see how this story matches up with the lyrics? I just find it all very interesting, and that song seems very artistic now.

There was a rhythmic pounding in my dreams,

One strong enough to wake me,

But as my weary eye transpired

The beats echoed in the stillness.

My head tried hard to remember the taste,

To contain the knowledge of you at my door,

But you're there no more.

What are these dreams that recur

Threatening to never grant me peace?

If only to be cast out of my mind forever!

Forgotten and abandoned.

But no, I wouldn't dare forget,

Don't confiscate that memory from me!

Let it rest on my pillow

And greet me each night.

Too fond of you, I am,

To let it from my sight.

So I keep it on my pillow

And just for sanity's sake,

I hardly ever slumber.

~Heidi Joens

So raw these words fall from my mouth

And form themselves on a page,

It is the only place I'm honest,

Often the reader is just myself.

I must create a work of art

That represents my heart.

When wounds cut deep

I bleed out words

And clean them up with paper.

When feelings fester

And rage comes forth,

The pencil is my tool

To orchestrate a remedy

Before I am a fool.

When joy is eminent and flooding over

I laugh out couplets and rhymes.

Words not spoken but words that are thought,

Modified,

Written.

These are the words that encapsulate

All that I am, by God permitting.

~Heidi Joens

Wicked

"So he stalked her again. Love makes hunters of us all." - Gregory Maguire

"We may have found a cure for most evils; but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all—the apathy of human beings."

~Helen Keller

Love?

Love?

What is love?

We try to explain with a rose,

Identify with colors of red,

Define as hearts becoming butterflies.

He said, "I love".

One year later, she's standing

Alone.

Butterflies lose flight when harmed

And roses decay.

Humans speak too soon.

Is anyone sure?

Does anyone know?

Chocolate is sweet,

But is consumed quickly.

Some devour while others

Enjoy the sensation.

Either route has the same end.

Jewels present strength and beauty,

Immortality,

Until stolen - then gone forever.

What is the price we are willing to pay?

Red can also mean blood,

But maybe

That is the price.

What is love without

Being ready to die?

She stands on the front lines,

He takes her bullet,

She begs God to have her life for his,

His eyes show no fear.

He holds her hand and brushes her lips,

"Of all things, this is what I'll miss."

~Heidi Joens

These Are For You..

What?

I don't know how I feel about you,

Or why my mind's always on you.

You have me in a weird way -

I think I'm free,

But sometimes I imagine chains.

And always this feeling

I can't describe,

One I've never had.

Is it desire?

Love?

Beginnings of hate?

Something that won't satiate.

I lie and stare

And lie to myself.

Or is this the truth?

Am I hiding?

Scared?

Or is this really boldness?

There you are again -

In my head.

But what are you doing?
Is it really you?

Or just my own projection?

I thought I knew,

Thought we were friends...

But now we're strangers,

And neither you

Nor I

Comprehend.

~Heidi Joens

You've got me hanging on your every word

Even as they drag me through the dirt.

You're sweet and addicting like chocolate -

Just a taste and I want more of it,

But there's almonds and walnuts in the center,

Making the experience somewhat bitter.

You make my day and then walk away,

And I know I shouldn't ask you to stay,

But here I am following behind this tree

Hoping you'll turn and recognize me.

How can you be fun, yet so terrible?

I am confused, and worse - I'm miserable.

~Heidi Joens

Don't Go Friend

We both led each other on -

I gave you hope, you gave me security,

Then I squashed that hope

And you tried to break me.

I never though that you

Could cut a hole so deep.

Even as I write these words

The idea makes me weep.

Now two aching hearts

Cry out from different means

Ripped in the center

And bleeding through the seams.

Friend, oh friend,

You hurt me so,

But what kills me is your pain

That I also know.

I never wanted to be the one

Who drove you far away.

My small voice was begging

For your arms to stay.

The same arms that made me feel

Safe and protected

Were also the same trap

That made you feel rejected.

I want to hear your sad song

As I have in days past,

But now you may write of me,

And those days were my last.

~Heidi Joens

I miss everything we were and all that we knew,

I miss the talks, the laughter, and I miss you.

It's on days like today when I just need a friend

That I'm baffled at whether it may have come to an end.

Sometimes I cry, but just for a while

Thinking of how you could make me smile.

Then I need to write - sketch it all out,

Put pen to paper and let my heart shout.

Maybe I'm cheesy or too sentimental,

But the memories flood my mind in a way that's not gentle.

I'm not asking for attention or expecting you to see

The way this situation is torturing me.

If you could but walk in the shoes that I own,

Maybe you never would have left me alone.

But it's life, we're only human bound to make fault,

And perhaps I did more than I ought.

Rewind, rewind, please let me return

To that peaceful place for which I yearn.

I miss you, I miss you, the ache will be here

Always, as to my heart you are very dear.

~Heidi Joens

Ineffable Mystery

You quiet my desires as your fingers touch my lips,

You wrap me in your arms, and I just cling to this.

All other distractions quiet to a low, dull hum,

And my heart pounds through places I thought were numb.

I give up, I rue it all, take all I am.

I lie quiet at your feet - me, a little lamb.

The storm I came through shook me and soaked my bones,

I waged a war and then I died alone.

Oh, the absurdity of assuming that I

Without wings or feathers could jump and then fly!

This hand is not of beauty or grace

But simply one that longs to touch your face.

Take off the layers, the impedimenta I own.

Your fingers dig deep through the threads that I've sewn.

In trepidation I cry from this pain that I feel,

And suddenly this life becomes very real.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." I try to construe.

My nakedness is shameful in front of you,

But you exculpate me without hesitation

And make my salvation your obligation.

Praise you, oh Lord, for your incredible mercy!

This love is such a beautiful, ineffable mystery!

I deserve fire and without you I am lost,

But me you have redeemed through the power of the cross.

~Heidi Joens

Madness

We're not the friends that I thought we were,

And I'm tired of this and you and her.

For reasons that I may never know

You put up you your hand and turned to go.

But you did not leave - you stayed in this place,

So day by day I still see your face

As it smiles kindly on ones that I love

And sneers at me secretly from dark corners of

This madness that you, alas have made real.

And this sentence I have tried to appeal,

But madness in madness makes no sense at all,

There's no clarity in the issue I try to recall.

If you're trying to prove that you really don't care,
You need not worry, I can see you there

Avoiding my being to focus on she,

But what a happy triad we used to be!

This slow burn of events is starting to scorch

My brain and my heart. Extinguish that torch!

Yes, we're only friends, but we know through and through

The makings of I and the fundamentals of you.

So there's nowhere to run, for this is my home,

And I'll learn to be near you but be really alone.

~Heidi Joens

Cold Night in November

I wrote this at the end of the year 2008 reflecting on something that had happened the year before.

Two months ago, who would have thought that this was where we would be? It was a cold, rainy night in November, and the over-crowded atmosphere inside the coffee shop offered no place to sit. After receiving our drinks, it was my car we retreated to, the only alternative suggested. We ran through the rain, trying to escape the cold chill the wind was adding to the night. Finally reaching my white intrepid, we were anxious for some shelter. With a shaking hand, I turned the key in the ignition and adjusted the heat. And there we sat.
After ten minutes, I was still shivering, but it did not matter how high I turned up the heater. I tried to sip my caramel macchiato, but it was strange how the sugar had done nothing to sweeten the taste. The window to my left had become clouded with steam from my quick, hot breaths. I turned and noticed the rain falling in the parking lot, for the picture through your window was clear as day. Your posture was still, your hair slicked dark from being wet, but your eyes were even darker.
There was a tension in that car so thick I could almost see it. Your presence did nothing to warm me, for you were as cold as the night. My gaze kept dropping down to my knees because I was afraid of that stare. It was not directed at me, and that was even part of the reason I feared it. Where were you looking and what did you see? You were somewhere else and not easily returning. That was my goal, to bring you back, but my hopes slowly suffocated as the night carried on.
Our conversation was difficult to maintain as the silent one between us became louder. You were not the same boy I once knew. The summer of playtime had been long since over, and your mood only seemed to stick with the seasons. Who was I kidding? Why was I still playing this game? Were you even telling the truth when just the day before you had said you were sorry? And who were you kidding? Was there really a good reason to lead me to believe things had not changed?
“It’s late,” you stated as you reached for the handle of your door. I looked at the clock and realized forty minutes had passed. Wow, we had been in another world, one where time had no essence. Your words were a sharp bell waking us back up to reality. “Yes,” I replied, “I suppose it is.”
I watched you exit my car and the wind that blew in only caused my jaw to shake once more. I watched you make it back to your truck, and I watched you drive away. It took just a second before I realized my shaking jaw had become a quivering lip. I tried to bite it, but not even the coldest place in the world could numb me. I was still holding on to the last ray of sunshine, and that cannot be stolen without a fight. Surrender, perhaps? I knew that was not like me. I fought too hard and for more than I was worth.
The tears shed that night were more for me than for you, for I knew that I was enslaved to my heart. No matter how hard my head tried to fight it, my feelings would not die so easily. I knew I was hurt and would be hurt again, so why could I not save myself from that mess? I was an idiot for diving into icy waters and hoping that the top would not freeze over before I came up. Alas, I put my head to my pillow that night and prayed that my dreams would bring a happier ending. “Save me, oh Lord, I cannot stand the cold.”

Isn't It Interesting

Isn't it interesting

The people we choose

To walk all over us?

For most we return

Slap with punch,

Kick with bone crunch,

But then there's the few

Who hug like porcupines

And we gladly bleed.

Even a touch from the jellyfish

Is a justified sting.

We draw close to the skunk

And stand in bee hives -

I just want to be measured up in your eyes.

I'm drinking your poison,

I can feel it's warmth in my veins.

Now I choke, gasp for air

Pour me another glass.

Step on my hands, my feet,

My torso, my head.

Jump on me, skip on me,

Just don't leave me for dead.

Don't walk away,

I'll let you cut me again.

I don't need blood anyway,

Just you.

~Heidi Joens