Tiny Glass Bells

I remember the night I cried for my loss.

I was on the school's annual induction retreat for incoming freshmen students, and after a late night of preparation and planning for the next day's activities I escorted one of my female colleagues to her cabin in the woods. I'm not sure what kind of security I could actually provide if we encountered some rabid lumberjack on the trail, but there's always comfort in companionship.

As an aging teacher I was beginning to struggle with my hearing, especially those shy little girls that sit on the back row, brilliant yet afraid they may be wrong with their contribution to our daily discussions. "Mr. Kelley, I think tha... ke... but...."-- DRATS! I'm losing my ability to engage in my own discussions!
So I went to the audiologist, was tested in her sound-proof phone booth, and was issued a set of high-dollar hearing aids programmed specifically for me. I was given a two-week trial to see what I thought, two weeks that included this particular retreat. I didn't wear them all the time-- as a playful teacher away at camp with students, I'm always mindful of the possibility that impulse-laden guys may entertain themselves with a moment of mutiny and decide to escort said teacher into the pool or lake-- not good for hearing aids or cell phones. At night, especially during meetings, I was free to don my new toys and try them out. I would turn them on and off at intervals, collecting data whether the cost was worth the benefit. Undecided.

Walking back along the trail that night, I realized I had turned them off during the meeting earlier and thought I'd just turn them back on. This model starts with a little chime: "Do-da-do-deet", except this time something was terribly wrong-- intense static filled my ears, like when as a kid I turned on my AM radio with my earphones on...so loud! So intense! This set of hearing aids were defective-- thank goodness I hadn't bought them-- and I turned them off quickly! Walking another minute down the moonlit trail, I thought I'd give them one-last-try [how often throughout my life I've done this?], and again: "SHHHHHHHH...", yet there was also something... something melodic... something familiar. As I stepped closer to the end of the woods the din unravelled into a very difficult, horrifying reality: the night was alive with insect life and I never heard it in my adult years.
I cried.
I cried for the horrible reality that I had missed a whole world around me for so long, a world that friends would comment on or complain about that I had no awareness of... a world re-experienced with a new wonder, like when a child gets her first pair of corrective eyeglasses. I bought the hearing aids.

So today as I sip coffee and eat breakfast in the backyard with my Sweet Susie, I realized my hearing aids made it home from their normal residence in my classroom. She sits transfixed, amazed at some mysterious event above us as I watch flocks of cedar waxwings fly in and out of the mulberry trees. In her sad, pitiful way she looks at me and repeats her gentle query: "Can you hear that?"
I reply, as always: "The cars?, the wind? the doves? the sparrows? the mockingbird? the neighbors? That?"
She just looks at me... sadly. Except today I go inside, put on the aids, and step outside into a din of tiny crystal bells trilling away with fantastic enthusiasms. "Got it," I say, now appreciating what I've been missing in my own backyard, sharing now with my sweety what brings her such joy.

Little, tiny crystal bells; trilling with life. Thank you, Abba, for the wonder of your Creation. And for the consolation of the Serenity Prayer, knowing there are some things that don't have to be accepted or settled for.

The Grey

Dark eyes, focused.
       Crunch.
The light of my literacy glows cloudy in reflection.
Fixed.
Waiting.
Expectant.
       Crunch.
Brows raised, focus shifts now: left, right, left…. right.
Nares flare with Pavlovian response.
Dark eyes, focused.
        Crunch
Fixed.
Waiting.
Expectant.

It's breakfast time, and I am not alone.

Why WalMart will Fail in my Neighborhood

Customer service.

WalMart has risen to preeminence in the consumer retail industry because of their smart-inventory systems and sense of branding among "associates". But that is recently shifting with ongoing lack of local management.

In the last two years, we, the consumer, have seen a shift to modern exteriors, enhanced produce sections, and poor service. It is now expected that when a customer wants to pick up a bag of dog food, they will wait 10 to 15 minutes in a 15-customer line, because of the 26 registers that are newly installed and ready to go, only two.. maybe three.. have a cashier and are actively helping customers.

If it were anecdotal, this would not be blog-worthy.

But this has been my experience with every visit, save one late-night expedition, and at three different stores in the West-Houston region. 

 Something has shifted. So much so that twice this short month I have simply left the store, abandoning my cart out of the way where another shopper had just done the same. There are 4 store associates talking, and the manager had just opened a register but only to help an employee to make a discount purchase. The rest of us stand in long lines thinking she will look up, realize that we are getting frustrated and have the initiative to open one more line.

Or maybe as another manager at another store chats up some off-line cashier, he might glance at the line (Katy store) and actually invite her to open her register for the line that has now expanded into the retail area. Of the two frazzled cashiers working that store's truncated check-out, I see two customers leave the line and abandon their carts when one of the cashiers has a client who wants a price-check for yet another item. And there are three associates chatting away from the cashiers.. I guess waiting to restock items left by frustrated customers?

So here's the part that the Region managers don't seem to get: if people leave the store, they not only did not spend any money there, they may not want to return.

I have now decided that my money and my time will now first go to my local grocery store, whose inventory, pricing and customer service has just won a client. It's only a $50 purchase, but that's money that Walmart will never see.

(originally written Feb2014)

JK,ns

The Pause

As I sit here in my lab desk, reflecting over the crazy pace of this last month, I am aware of a background noise that masks itself earlier in the day with the sounds of footsteps or conversation. No, it is not my tinnitus, though that certainly is part of the moment.
It is the air conditioner.
The air conditioner running, and there is nobody left in this building but me...
...and I like it.
Have you ever gotten so still, so quiet that you can feel your own heartbeat?
Listened to your pulse in your ears?
That's what the air conditioner moment is like for me right now.
April had been so crazy: school year coming to a close, taxes are due to The Man, already making plans for next school year, working finances for home-repair and a mission trip to the Philippines... so busy that I come home, kiss my sweet Susie on the forehead and just... want... to... sit on my back porch and listen to birds or wind in the trees.
Stillness.
This morning's weekly reunion of Bible, Biscuits and Bro's began a study of 1 Peter. In beginning of this letter, I can almost hear a plea in his tone as he writes his letter to us: "May Grace and Peace be multiplied to you."
Grace and peace.
Multiplied to us.
The awareness that not only are we not worthy, but that's not relevant... we are the Beloved. We have a loving Abba who walks with us into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled and unfading, moving past the crazy distractions that bring us anxiety, past the painful realities reminding us of our own mortalities... into the peaceful Presence of His embrace.
Lord Jesus, thank you for the cross... for your willingness to take my punishment, for my sinfulness, all the way to death and back. Thank you for Easter; that reminder that death does not have the last word for those who surrender to your Kingdom within.
Lord, thank you for this moment, the gentle hum of a pause.

Happy Labor Day Weekend

It's Sunday morning,  year 2013.
Having missed morning worship, I turned on the local Christian station, sat in my favorite chair, and have been listening to praise and worship music while peacefully reading and truly enjoying the flurry of bird life flocking around my now-filled feeder. I even gave the hummingbird feeder it's first autumnal transfusion of sweetness and have already already witnessed a micro-migrator leaving this new ornament on the arboreal landscape! As I type, a swarm of hummers have just mobbed this feeder-- life suddenly is even happier from this chair.
The One-Year Bible's offerings find us in Ecclesiastes and 2 Corinthians, books strangely congruent aside from overarching theological bases: both seem to be specifically addressing the profound limitations of living solely for oneself, written in a voice that leaves me wishing I was farther along my Jesus Journey.
Paul lovingly writes to his Children in Corinth another letter, and says, "do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common?...'Therefore come out from them and be separate,' says the Lord. 'Touch no unclean thing, and I will receive you. I will be a Father to you, and you will be My sons and daughters'..." Paul then pleads: "Since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God." (2 Cor.6:14,17-8; 7:1)
I know that nobody can be perfectly holy, but that is not what is going on here-- it's about orientation: what am I focused on? What is the most important thing in my life? Since I immediately am aware of my imperfections, what are those idols I proudly hold onto, idols God is gently asking me to give up so I might receive something profoundly better?
God is good.
People have a profound ability to rationalize our pig slop.
Jesus, help us to surrender that we might truly experience life. Jesus, for those who have never taken this step, give them the courage to give over their lives to your Love/Life.
In becoming my LORD, you become my Savior.
Thank you for the cross; bear with me as I stumble in following you-- I really don't like being hurt, but I'm learning that may not be relevant.
I thank you for the amazing gifts you give me, including that amazing peach-colored bird sipping from the hummingbird feeder

Jac's Reminder: Breathe.

At our faculty devotions today, Jac'Drake shared some insights from her journey with Christ, especially from lessons learned while attending NYU:

1. Our capacity to create and appreciate Beauty is the Imago that the Abba has placed within humanity; the ability to destroy is evidence of our sin and rebellion.

2. Breathing is worship: it is the first thing we do in the world, and the last, and everything in between. It is what we do as we worship in song-- we all breathe in unison, sharing the same rhythms of in and out, a tidal experience in the Pneuma.

3. Our encounter with the Abba is about breath: the very NAME is about breath:Y=in, H=out, V=in, H=out.

I am thankful and blessed this day, thankful for this place called Houston Christian High School, the people with whom I serve, and my life.
Thank you, Father, for my new life.
I love You.
Jim

The Value of Suffering

I don't like pain.  I was not a great football player.
I hate to see suffering, whether man or beast.  I have deep sorrow when I see an animal struck by a car but not dispatched.
I also acknowledge the value of both pain and suffering in experiencing the depths of life available to us on this side.

I have heard good-intentioned philosophers use pain and suffering as some grasping rationale for the non-existence of God. I don't blame them for being disappointed by the conditions in this world in which we live; it is certainly not Nirvana. On the other hand, we were never promised a life without pain or suffering. Look at the way the occupying soldiers treated Jesus of Nazareth-- he was unjustly brutalized to death, and beckons us to follow Him in loving our enemies. That's crazy talk! I understand how some folk see Jesus as a miracle-performing lunatic-- His teaching is all upside down!

There is, however, another perspective as we travel this rocky road. I was reminded of this today by Wonder-Woman (WW) when I remarked that God will never give me more than I can handle. WW was correct when she clarified the context was about temptation, not about suffering. Yet I was referring to my deep-founded belief that: 1) God is good; and 2) my Abba loves me.
You see, the Bible never says we won't have pain or suffering-- the fact is that Paul warns us: "...when you undergo suffering...". Pain and suffering are the backdrop of a joy-filled life that enables faithful followers of The Way, like Paul, to be ambivalent about death. He writes, "...to live is Christ [a great thing] and to die is gain, so whether I live or die [a horrible death likely under the brutality of Nero], it is all good." Something like that t-shirt that reads, "Those afraid to die are also afraid to live."

To not find value in affliction is to ignore the tragedy that becomes the seedbed of powerful art. How often does the painter, the composer, the writer, the poet produce their greatest works in the wake of a tragedy? And in that powerful expression of authentic humanity, kindle joy in the hearts of those of us no longer tantalized by the gilded distractions that trap them in a frenetic race to get the next fix. Somewhere right now a circle of strangers confess their pain to one another and emerge with serenity, knowing their struggle is shared by others.

And so I guess that is the promise we have in the crucified Messiah-- we are not alone in our experience. His Grace is sufficient for me.

What if we embraced whatever moment we are experiencing, holding onto faith's hopeful blessing, yet not missing the valley of the shadow of death? What if my current symptoms give way to a respite, and thus release a deeper appreciation of the goodness of a moment that has diminished pain? It's like these last five years in Houston:  we complained about the humidity until we had two year's of drought that wiped out our forests; now nobody complains when the rains come-- we recognize the balance now.

And I wonder if that might be about a better-lived life. Balance.

I love You, my Abba, and joyfully receive from Your hand what this day's bread tastes like.

The Beauty of a Storm

Aldo Leopold, in "Come High Water", writes about the special peace that comes in being stranded by floodwaters, unable to return to work or regular life, and forced into a special type of seclusion.
Solitude.
Solitude is what I experience when I step outside, under the cover of a porch, and feel the cool, blustery auguries of an approaching May thunderstorm. The grackles attempt to defy aerodynamics in a feeble attempt to return to a favored roost, long tails perpendicular to their intended destination until they submit to lesser offerings, whether winded heads or tails, as long as this vector results in a perched perspective. The majesty of a towering thunderhead, rumbling and grumbling like an old man's belly,  dark as slate and flashing with power, puts me back into a peaceful sense that all is right with the world-- God is still on the throne, and I no longer am burdened with some false notion of personal omnipotence or uber-responsibility.
Thank you, Abba.

A New Year in 2013?

Happy New Year.
What an interesting season we are in.
This month has been something of an "uncovering" month, when political falsehoods and civic manipulations are coming to light.
I think it's interesting that there was no "assault rifle" used in the Connecticut massacre, and the family of the perp are actually connected to high level finance and the government's investigation of an international political scheme.
I think it's interesting that Hillary got a concussion right before she was to testify, and then during the hearing her non-answers were accepted as if she answered the questions.
I think it's interesting that our President and every member of Congress refuse to participate in the health care "reforms" they are forcing onto citizens, and avoid the question when asked on camera.. repeatedly.
I think it's interesting that the sales of firearms and ammunition has peaked in our country, as citizens stockpile for some type of siege.
I think it's interesting that our President and Congress somehow think that the solution to being so far into debt that we may not make it back-- the solution is to get more debt?? I was attending a Dave Ramsey discussion group about responsible finances and my mind kept going back to our country's leadership and lack of fiscal responsibility. I see no changes in the works. I see word-crafting, positioning and an entrenched Oligarchy who no longer are part of the masses. Elitism has a new face but it still thinks it wise to advise: "Let them eat cake."
New Year?
In some ways, yes... totally.
Some family is going to give birth to their first baby.
Some amazing young person is going to graduate from school.
Blessed people like myself are going to enter into a marriage covenant before God.
And the greatest change this year? Some amazing person is going take that step of faith, surrendering their life to Abba's love in Christ Jesus. So with that I sit up straight and proclaim, "Happy New Year".

Tis the Season

Late December.
I actually wanted to turn the heat on this week.
Finally.
I didn't see a mosquito today.
The American goldfinch arrived this week... Christmas week.
Everything is almost right.
I no longer hear geese over my home during the Autumn... there's always tomorrow's hope.
Lord, thank you for the many blessings you pour lavishly over us.
I'm sorry for how we mess things up, especially when we don't want to think differently.
I love you.
Jim

End of one chapter, beginning anew

With the close of 2012, I find myself reflecting an a rather spectacular year. Though the list is incomplete at this point, some of my highlights include:

Breakfast with Julius

• Starting an E-Harmony profile last January to get up enough courage to officially "date"again
• Getting a house full of roommates, including Julius
• Going to my first NSTA Convention in Indianapolis, Indiana
• Actually asking ladies out on a date in March
• Meeting Susie last May for our first date
• Becoming Department Chairperson of science department and constant interviewing of candidates for open positions
• Joining a team of high school students to South Africa for two weeks of trekking 
• Sending off Julius and new wife to start life in Waco
• Saying goodbye to my Uncle Mike
• Backpacking with students above Lake City, Colorado, and peaking Uncompahgre 
• Getting to know my godly "person", Susie; I even purchased and have started using jogging shoes... sheesh.
• Starting a very, very challenging school year with huge amounts of changes and challenges at work
• Proposing to Susie on a chilled, moonlit, Nebraska November night after meeting most of her family over Thanksgiving
• Turning 51 and still having some fight in me
• Not seeing flocks of geese migrate overhead this year... makes me sad and concerned.

Crying at Crowder

Twice this week I've ordered Siri to "..play Crowder music..", both times sending me back to a place of intimate connection with our Father.
The only album I own is "Church Music", and I wore it out last year when I drove to Colorado and then the Grand Canyon to spend time with the Father.
To listen again to this music recreates that memory springing from a season of living as a hermit in my own home, a time of rich solitude, contemplation and intimacy with my Lord.

Life is different today.
Not bad, different.
Today I am learning how to be in relationship with a godly woman who seeks to serve the Father and others. As roommate Willy says, a great deal of time is required to be in relationship.

I get Paul's admonition, that it is better to be unmarried, simply on an economy-of-time standpoint. Now I want to spend time with her, whereas before I would sublimate that need for connection and use it to serve others.

Life is good. It's messy. It's different.
God is good. I'm messy. We're different, yet I hope somehow to bring Him a smile at my goofy attempts and foolishness.

Father, protect me from what I was; shape me for who You would have me be.

I love you.

Journey in a Day

I am here.
Here does not define me, but it does describe part of me.
I am not my path, but my path has shaped me.
I am not my future, for there is no such thing; only in the present does the future exist, and no man knows the hour of his reckoning. At best, we get retrospect to learn from.

I have been set free for Freedom, but that freedom is not license... it is an honorable opportunity to choose the things pleasing to my Abba.
I do not get to redo the past-- it is not my present, and therefore not my responsibility. My Lord tells me that he has washed it clean as snow anyway, so to reflect on my past in manners unworthy of my Present is perhaps my greatest sin.

Abba, please allow me the grace of seeing myself in Jesus.
Please allow me the grace to see others as Jesus would.
In this moment, this Moment, I submit what I know to One who gets me.
I love you, Lord.

Cardinal Sin

There is something deep inside of me that is nourished when I spend time in Refugio County. I'm pretty sure it is not the allergies, but I do believe it has to do with the smell of the grass, trees and ragweed, coupled with the sound of cardinals, flycatchers and red-shouldered hawks, the dry wind on a cloudy day whispering false notions about the possibility of rain.

My dad has a pond surrounded by larger trees that he calls "Kelley Park", and I often will lend a hand around his place repairing stuff, or mowing back brush. It was in the process of clearing and trimming shrubs around his lake that I made my mistake: I snipped off a low branch that was hiding a cardinal's nest. I knew my error when I heard the protests of the lone, naked nestling: this high-pitched squeak that usually means: "Hey mom, I'm hungry", but now probably cried out: "Warning!-- old, tall geek with pruning shears who's not looking carefully at what he's doing!!"
I felt terrible. I quickly put the little guy and the souvenir egg back in the nest and wedged it back into the bush from whence it was shorn, an apology offered in the sincerest modality. What else was there to do? RATS! I kayaked back that evening to see if the momma accepted my apology, but I had done a good job of putting the hidden nest back into the bush and didn't want to traumatize them any more by lumbering over to it again. So I left and hoped for the best.
I hate it when I do something trying to help a situation, get so engrossed in the process that I accidentally create a problem, and then have to surrender the outcome, because I don't get the final say.
Sometimes that's like my relationship with God; sometimes that's simply my entire life.
Lord Jesus, I am soo thankful that you are trustworthy, that you know my heart and have the power to make things right, even sins committed with the best of intentions.
Thank you for this summer and the many blessings you shower on us, especially old, tall geeks with pruning shears.

Out of Africa

June is cold in southern Africa. I welcome that.
Returning to Houston and stepping from the air-conditioned confines of baggage claim, I felt somehow betrayed by my own hometown.
Humidity; thick, like a bland cheese that has been melted to point of stickiness yet has no flavor... only texture... Houston in June.

Chasing students through South Africa was a blessing this last month; I am so thankful for the people we met along the way: our Muslim driver, Isaac; our hostel hostess, Sarah; Miss Rosie and her beautiful orphans at Baphumelele; our Kruger guides, Gavin and Jessica; our Zambian driver, Simon, and his son, Benjamin; my favorite waiter in Livingstone, Charles; our Zambezi river guide, "Potato", who prayed for us as we prepared to land our raft; the people of the Mukuni Village. Awesome.

Yard work and interviewing prospective faculty has replaced panoramic views of wilderness; weeding through piles of e/mail has replaced prolonged periods of journaling and reflecting; a non-stop social process has replaced a natural rythme that is older than the baobab trees. We call it civilization; I think: "Babel".

I am thankful.
I am thankful for this day.
   -for the new relationship that is growing
      -for the old relationships that continue to bless me
          -for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I'm out of Africa now. There are shrubs to trim, orders to place, bills to pay, people to meet, and duties to perform-- Lord, let me not forget your Kruger sunsets or the playfulness in the Victoria Falls. I selfishly ask for rich laughter, release from anxiety, and excitement for the moments You have for us, Abba.

Help me to be a fantastic Jim Kelley.
I love You, Abba.

Pause...

I like this morning...
No alarm clock, just a slow fade into awareness like the old tv set we had as a kid... remember? the kind that sometimes you had to adjust the vertical, and when you turn it off there was this little white dot in the middle?
And remember the tv station signal pattern? and the sign off with the national anthem?
Remember recess to the playground?
Remember playing in the dirt with sticks, or poking ants or playing with pillbugs?
There was a time much different today when we didn't have cell phones, didn't have 24-hour news-channels, portable internet access or Siri.
There was a time when there was space in life to think deep thoughts, to dream rich dreams... to pause and reflect upon the amazing goodness within which God marinates us.
And so I celebrate this Jewish Sabbath with a lovely pause.
Thank you Jesus.
Into Your hands I commit my spirit.

ps- Please watch over my loved ones this summer.

Dead Man Walking...

"...but you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you." (Acts 1:8)

Sometimes I relate to Lazarus; I've been given a fresh start, a do-over in Christ.
Sometimes I experience the Spirit's presence so closely that all I can do is weep.
Sometimes I feel dead inside, like the white-washed tombs of a pharisee. Or dead to feelings of romance, like my heart has lost its ability to give itself to another besides Jesus. Is this bad? Am I being unfair to those in my life that want more than I am able to give relationally? Do I just stop dating, shut down eHarmony, and walk away? Is the "more" that Abba has for me not include a significant other? Why can't I feel those feelings?

A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways, but what if all my ways are not unstable? ... double-minded... I find myself in some weird, personal form of spiritual bipolarity? What is up with that?

I yearn for transformational power from on High.
I yearn for resurrection power, in me; through me.
I don't want to do anything that would compromise my intimacy with Jesus... so does this make me a monk? I'm ok with that, Abba, if that's what is best...
I also don't want to be a dead man walking, either.

What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?


Thanks be to God-- through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Sometimes You Are So Smart...

One of the things that I love about visiting the sisters down in the Counseling Corner is their "love for one another". Like right now: they're standing around each other, each working on separate tasks but there is this awesome sisterhood thing that occurs down here. Even their insults and candid comments do not wound deeply as might occur elsewhere:
Carebear: "Do they kill peacocks to get their feathers?"
MegaWeave: "That is a BAD question. I mean really.. Sometimes you are so smart, but THAT question.."
Carebear: [laughter] [both continue to work feverishly]
--that's it; no retaliation... just laughter and smiles as both their eyes never leave what they are working on.

First of all, to stay on task like they do is an amazing reality to an individual such as myself! [SQUIRREL!] Their professional acuity is marvelous--even now MegaWeave is discussing her backyard fire-pit and typing so fast that it sounds like machine-gun fire from Julius and Brian playing Call of Duty-3 at the Den of Men.
Even El Guapo, the men among the sisters, is cranking it non-stop, while Care-Bear and Trigger continue to work on next year's schedules as they each migrate back to their respective offices. It's amazing how much this office accomplishes behind the scenes, so much we take for granted by the time the school year starts again.
And I sit here like a lump.
It's quite intimidating, actually.
So I think I'll lumber away and recycle paper or do something else that may possibly give me some hope of being as cool as they are.
I'm also disappointed that nobody wants to go eat chips and salsa at Pappasito's.

I'm a teacher. It's summer. I'm still up at school.
Jesus, thank you for our community at HC. I love you.

Melony, 41

Melony, 41. Someplace, Texas.
Closed.
It bums me when I realize that sometimes I'm too brusque.
I don't like it about myself, but it's part of the package.
The Paddle-Partner calls it "snarky"; I think of it as "being on my spiritual-period". Or maybe I'm just some crotchety old dude.

A few days ago I made an announcement on my profile to the microcosm that "...bipolar=scary"
I did not mean to be "mean", just up front, and didn't have enough 'letters' to be more specific on my profile. In my life bipolar people make me feel crazy because they make assumptions about my intention without checking reality, and often respond to their imagination and blame me for their behavior. That makes me crazy, and sad, and angry-- thus: scary.

Melony41 wrote to me out of the blue asking what I meant by "bipolar=scary": fair question; I appreciate the opportunity to explain that being in a relationship with a bipolar person can be exhausting, and I've had some negative experiences with bipolar persons in my life.. She agreed and shared an experience she had with a relative, then mentioned how scary that was for her and stuff.
She is a creative, lovely sister in Christ, a community builder who accidentally writes poetry simply by penning her thoughts. I enjoy reading her words. She also seemed a sensitive, compassionate person, yet courageous enough to ask a stranger from the blue a direct question-- I respect that. So I replied.

 I apologized if I was too blunt on my profile. Then I did something weird: I offered advice from the microcosm, because she had just arrived and may not understand the processes: if someone is obviously not a match for you, it's acceptable to "close" them, because you see something in that relationship that just won't work, and so that it's a good thing, because it allows both of you to move on. (I guess I was giving her permission to "close" me if I had offended her beyond repair or if she would not ever have further conversation with someone who might write something as brusque as "..bipolar=scary", because she seemed a sensitive person? and might not understand that it's ok to close an account? because she was new to the microcosm?) I warned her beforehand my comment was weird, but I actually was trying to be helpful.

She writes back that she was diagnosed bipolar at one point in her life, but that her friends don't agree with it, that she was perhaps healed, and that I obviously don't want to date bipolar people, and "closed" me before I could reply.
Ummm ok.

Ok.
But I obviously had not closed the account if I was writing to her.
So I obviously did not want to close the account...
So she obviously made her own decision, then blamed me for it? Hmm.
Life is messy.
I would not have closed her.

Closed.

What's Love got ta do with it?

There is a special place in the chest of a man, somewhere in proximity superior to the aorta, that registers feelings deeper than the mind can comprehend.
It is a dull, deep feeling that just sits there like a lump of stale pita bread that was not adequately washed down, a sense that something is there and it's not quite right.
The ancients and contemporaries attributed this to "the heart" and has manifested itself on Hallmark curios for many Februarys now, some red graphic more reminiscent of Ipomoea than cardiac.
I do not like this feeling; it is like a cousin to anxiety, like when you realize you are about to be called on the carpet. It is a hanging, open sensation that something is out of place; like Elvis, shalom has left the building. It is the feeling that occurs when a girl realizes that she will not be asked to the prom. It is a feeling a boy feels when he sees his best friend flirting with the girl he has a crush on.
Crush.
That's a good word.
Crush. This heavy sense that there is something there, pushing in or on.
It is also the feeling one has when he or she chooses to lay aside a dream before it can be further dreamt.
RIP--John 12:24