Montana and the University of the Nations

Well, I’m finally in Montana after my first flight was delayed and my second flight was canceled and then re-canceled and then canceled again. This resulted in a nice – free – hotel room and complimentary meals. The weather is amazing here, especially compared to the airless sauna I came from in Georgia. The mountains are breathtaking and after I took in the beauty of my present situation I was then thrown into a very busy, very loud, school full of new students and staff running frantically around trying to cater to everyone who looked…confused. Usually it was me they found. My entire suitcase had been drenched with rainwater form the earlier torrential down poor in the Atlanta airport and so my room was draped in wet clothes. That is until I found the laundry room. But alas, my rather expensive point shoes are ruined, and my guitar has gone a little…hay”wire.” Not to mention there’s noise everywhere and new faces at every turn and I just found out that I will be dancing every day, all day learning many new things. There will also be established guest choreographers coming in from all over the United States. Some have worked with the Alvin Ailey Company and the Martha Graham company. One man, Randell Flinn (who I am exceedingly excited to meet) founded Ad Deum, an established dance company in Texas. So, needless to say I have my mental capacities at their maximum trying to take everything in. Plus, I forgot bed sheets and laundry detergent, but thankfully the nearest target and Walmart are only 45 minutes away… Once getting here, and seeing everything with my own eyes, I knew once and for all that I am right where God wants me to be. And dance can be more mission oriented than I realized. The possibilities seem endless. I can’t wait to start.

The girls in my school are so beautiful and represent 8 different countries. They are all so inspired for using dance as a path to healing, and becoming closer to God. Sometimes, the only way to communicate the truths of God and His message in some, is without words. Each person has big dreams and I know, like my Discipleship Training School, that God will do things above and beyond our expectations within ourselves, within our group and those we come in contact with in society.

On Sorrow and Joy

Sorrow and solemnity touches the deepest places in our souls. There is a general loneliness that touches deeply in everyones souls whether they’ve been hurt or not. We all have that in common. Sorrow is a lot like joy. Neither last very long but they touch the deepest parts of our souls. I like to embrace sorrow because, in a way, it is good. But not when it is in self-pity. There is a difference. I think most of us like to go back to our hurts and display them whether secretly or out on our sleeves. We want to blame something and accuse something for being that cause of our wounds. All because of a deeper wound we all have, that many of us don’t know how to heal… Some of us have never even known it. But we all feel it.

Would we write these things if sorrow did not give us the insight – like we’d never fallen to imperfection? Do the angels even know of such secret sufferings that erupt in storms of vibrant expression? What would even art have been like without the fall of man? Would we still be touched to tears? Would life be as complicated, as deep, as mysterious? I don’t mean to say I like what has happened since the first fall of man. But I appreciate the mediocre pain even I’ve been through to help me get just a little closer to God…but I cannot see the justice in starving children, orphans, genocide, addictions, killing, disease…

Many things I do not understand.

I think art is then a gift from God no matter how hard things get. Art will help us keep our sanity. It gives us room to breath when our lungs refuse to expand, to yell our sufferings when no one will listen, to speak when there are no perfect words, to cry when their are no more tears, to love when you don’t know how, to live when you don’t know why – to deal with what we don’t know how to deal with.

God gives us so many things that feed our souls whether with joy, or with sorrow.

Kitty

The Vet came back in for the second time to see if we were ready to finally give her up. Kidney failure.
Mom stood up and walked over to him, cradling the frail cat in her arms. The former feisty cat with tons of attitude, only clung to mom’s shirt as she tried to give him to the vet one last time. It’s as if she knew what was going to happen next.

She kept me warm every night and I’d wake up with her cradled between my arms. Sometimes she would lick my ears and tickle my feet. At night she used to run up and down the hallway like bezerk. We called her the “Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde” cat.

She never answered to Snowball. It was always “cat” or “kitty.” She was smart too; peeing on our laundry was a more absorbent way of going to the bathroom. She never missed out on a warm lap, curling up in the most inconvenient of places.

She even won ingetting to take advantage of mom’s lap eventually. (That in itself was a feat.) She also had an attitude. She ruled over the dog. The dog knew it. One time, she chased a squirrel into my bedroom. And wasn’t very merciful with it. A tuna fish can would be merely set on the counter and she would literally climb up our legs to get at it. She was the prettiest cat on the street, with beautiful white fur, and one blue eye and one green eye. One of a kind. She lived a good life.

The last memory I had of her was of the doctor holding her thin frame to his chest, as he closed the door. She was my kitty. And so much more than just a cat. She was part of the family.

(Snowball (Kitty).  Died September 5, 2007)