To Battle

I’m in The Grapes of Wrath right now and I wanted to look at this old song, Battle Hymn of the Republic. I mixed in some of my photography as well. Pictures from my home state, Missouri, and one from Amarillo, Texas! I’ll let you guess which one. 🙂

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
His truth is marching on.
I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,
His day is marching on.
bw truck
I have read His fiery gospel writ in rows of burnished steel!
“As ye deal with my condemners, so with you My grace shall deal!
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, ”
Since God is marching on.
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.
country road
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free!
While God is marching
This song so perfectly sums up what Tom and the Joads are going through. I feel so honored, humbled and thankful to be able to tell this story. It truly is one of the most amazing experiences in theatre I’ve had. Already! We’re only one week into blocking.
The last show I did in Missouri, Women of Lockerbie, was amazing as well. I feel so lucky to be blessed with great actors, great direction and so much love and support. I don’t deserve such grace, but I’m over-the-moon to have it.trees fencetexassmall-e-cross

bw house
My mother’s Depression era home in Aullville, MO. The place she lived as a child. Still standing!
I don’t know that being in a play and being self-indulgent with acting is helping anyone. It certainly spurs me on to find ways to help others. It inspires me to keep going. It puts me in touch with my roots. It puts me in a caring community of strangers who have more love than I’ve seen in a while. Isn’t that a God thing?
I want to honor this very selfish, enjoyable experience by finding the depths of this character. It’s such a special opportunity. Plus, I want to take care of the people around me. Just like Ma. I want to be as generous as she was on and off stage.
I feel like I did when I used to act at church. Like I have a purpose and God-given usable talent. As sad as this play is, I’m having the time of my life.

Rabbit Habit

The street we live on, Flamingo Drive, should be renamed Rabbit Run. There are a gajillon bunnies on our short little avenue. Every morning when we ride to school, little bunnies pop out of every bush and hole. Adorable. Just like this fella. SQUEE!

bunny under the stairs
If we see two bunnies, we call that a Double Bun. Three? Triple Bun Fun. Four? Quad goals.

Except. These rabbits have a habit. Of almost dying! They are a touch suicidal. They run in front of my car. They hear the car and run towards it. Confused.

I, of course, brake when I see any movement. I only go around 15-20 miles an hour because there are some dumb bunnies. I grew up in the country, so I know what it’s like driving around squirrels, rabbits and deer. Once I brake, their spell is broken and they run in the other direction.

Run, bunny! Run!

I watch for bunnies and the Ghosts of Venice (I call them). Old people who drift in and out of the fog. I don’t want any innocent, yet careless, creature’s life in my hands. With the bunnies, I would fear retribution from the multitudes.

Thankfully, I am a cautious driver, always on the alert. 10 and 2, always focused, and keeping an eye on those bunny bushes.


The Rock

Psalm 91:1
Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow
of the Almighty.

If I am the immobile mountain, move me.
If your love is the mountain, then I shall be the one to climb.
If your summit is unknowable, then let me dangle from your shadows and shelter.
Let me live at the foot of your love.

Dusk ‘Til Dawn

Beauty of clouds on canvas climb
Reaching heights of pictured time

Wind sweeping o’er the moor
Heath and briar my bedtime floor

Among the blades, I find my rest
Pillows made from flowers pressed

Comforting sighs of water’s move
Birds sing of what night will prove

Promise of peace, darkness comes
Laid out like a beautiful line of crumbs

Finding your way doesn’t mean your lost
Flowing rivers are meant to be crossed

Beautiful Banyan

Banyan trees
Storybook greens
Fairies reside
In your village of leaves

If I were a child
I’d be lost in your places
Playing for hours
In your cracks and spaces

I sink like stones
Pleasure in your groans
Strange beauty of your bones
In this place I am known

Cradled by your arms
Rocked by your shade
Sing me to sleep
In sheets of memories made

There is peace here
Though stillness is rare
Protection from fear
Relief from care

Thank you, Banyan
I’m inspired by your reach
Exposing your roots
Is a graceful way to teach


Heart for Sale

This heart’s on sale.
Nobody’s buying.
Discounted deeply
Because it’s dying.

It’s been around the block
Beat-up and hard-used
It needs an overhaul
But everyone’s refused.

It needs a careful owner
Someone who knows hearts
Not a casual mechanic
Who doesn’t have extra parts.

I’ve tried to fix it myself
But I’m helplessly confused
I don’t know how to mend
This heart that’s been abused.

If you’re looking for fresh and new
And something that isn’t well-worn,
Then this heart is not for you
Or the love that it has borne.