What is it I hear through the trees
Coming down the mountains like the rushing onset of spring?
And what is brought to me on the wind,
Playing with wisps of hair as it pulls thoughts to my mind?
What is it that squeezes tears from my heart?
It is neigher of sorrow nor joy, but from a faint melody in which I start
to hear the voice of one that I've dreamed of for many days.
Do I imagine it now or will I turn around and gaze
Into soul windows of one with thoughts that speak to mine?
Yet still, I am left to wonder when it will finally be our time.
I could wander the paths that are shortcuts to love,
Waste life giving myself up
These painful paths lead only to ends
Littered with broken hearts trying to beat again.
O Hope, strengthen me to believe
That Patience will someday have its reprieve,
Gird me with the wings of Charity
Until Love be granted me.
And what is it that I hear through the trees?
The music of souls, the music of these things
Which confirm my sometime panging heart to wait,
To trust this song be not in vain.
Then on some morning, noon or night
When the tune of souls is playing kind,
then at one I know the dance will start
For the love that waits in these two hearts.
2-14-01
Monday, April 21, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
a vision of Jesus...
It is very humbling and terrifying to think that one can encounter the divine and live in the grace to tell about it. I know that I can count myself among the skeptics when, upon hearing another speak of hearing God or seeing God, I take a moment to pause and wonder if such encounters are simply of the imagination. Yet, I think there are the times in our own experience that prove to be so profound and so tangible, that no matter what skepticism enters the picture, there is the overshadowing indelible seal of the Spirit confirming that the unexplainable mystery of God has somehow encountered our own time and space.
I have been wanting to make such an entry of my encounter with the broken Christ since last May, and I have felt altogether lacking in my ability to even begin to explain it. Any words seem so inferior, but what makes me begin my effort tonight? I don't know, but nevertheless, I will try.
Last May, I attended a conference at Denver Seminary called the Spiritual Formation Forum. The three day conference was focused on Journeying with Jesus. I was just beginning my own journey into the possibility of what it would look like to become a spiritual director or counselor, so I attended. At this conference, I helped my brother in law lead worship as well.
There are often times that, as much as I feel a passion for leading others in worship, that I ultimately despise it as well. I'm sure this sounds almost blasphemous, but it is true. It is based on the fact that I know our worship here on earth is such a shadow of things to come and I feel that so acutely that I sometimes hate even trying. It feels so lacking compared with the holiness of God. What if we were to even get a glimpse? We would be doing something altogether different that what we do. I am convinced that we would be on our faces in such a holy and spellbinding silence that the world would stand still for just a moment.
Our team led worship the first night and it felt so forced to me. I was nervous, I was so self-focused and nervous as I sang. The second night was when everything changed. Another group led worship, so we were able to just sit with all the others. I sat about half way back and others were clapping along to the music, but my spirit was revolted by it all. I sat there and the last thing I wanted to do was clap or raise my hands and all the worship leader kept saying or yelling was "raise your hands, praise the Lord, dance!", etc. I just couldn't do it and I didn't know why, but I was almost nauseated by it. I began to feel a pull to the back of the room. When I say pull, I mean pull. It was as if some force was telling me to go there and I just followed. I had to get out of the crowd and have some space to just be with God outside of this experience.
As I went closer to the back of the room, I began to watch from the back what we looked like and again, the nausea came back. I began to scream inside "this is all wrong!" It wasn't that the worship wasn't genuine, but it felt so misguided as I watched everyone facing towards the front, towards the worship team, I almost felt like I was watching them worship the wrong thing. This is the best way I can describe it and yet, in that moment, I could not understand what was happening or why. And then the vision came.
In my mind's eye, but as clear as if I'd physically turned around, I had a vision of the back of the room behind me and to my left. I did not turn around, but I could see it and what I saw took my breath away. I saw a man slumped in a chair in the corner of the back of the room against the wall. He was absolutely broken and silent and his clothes were ripped and hanging off of him. His skin was dirty and sweaty and his hair hung down low, sticking to most his face. He sat, dejected and slumped in pain and utterly alone. His arms were limp and his head hung low to his chest, but he was able to barely lift his eyes and he just watched us. As I take time to describe him, it may seem that I looked and observed him for a while, but the opposite is true. It was in the same exact moment that I first took in the vision of him that I recognized him and I knew. It was the Lord. It was Jesus. It was him, there was no doubt and yet the sight of him absolutely shocked me. My breath was gone from my chest, and yet now it was not just in the vision, for I physically could not catch my breath and in a sob I said to him, "Lord, what are you doing here like this? I don't understand this". And yet again, in that moment I felt I did understand because I saw what he was seeing. I wanted to yell at all the people "Stop your noises! He's back here, don't you see him???" But the noise kept on. There was the biggest chasm I have ever felt in what I explained earlier about being unfit for worship.
I began to not be able to contain what I was seeing. It was too much for me to contain the image of his holiness combined with the vision of his brokenness and his poverty and how he was appearing. It was just that. Absolute brokennes and ugliness and yet, he did not lose one fiber of his holiness and beauty. I don't even know how to describe the distinct span of the depth of the Savior that I experienced that night. I ran out of the room and all the way outside completely overwhelmed by it all. It literally felt like my heart was being wrenched out of my chest and then came a gut-wrenching cry that I don't know if I will ever, or if I would ever want to feel that again as long as I live. I felt like he was uniting me to his Passion and I cried "Lord, I can't take this! Why, Lord?"
After awhile, as I somewhat regained my composure, I was able to begin to go back inside. All of this happened unbeknownst to anyone else and so it became all the more overwhelming to understand. I went back into the room and began to listen as the guest speaker, who I was unfamiliar with (both who she was and what she was going to be speaking on) began her talk. It was all I could do to not dissolve again when she said, "tonight, I will be talking to you about recognizing Jesus in the poor and the broken". I knew, I KNEW that I had seen and encountered our beautiful savior, revealed in all his brokenness.
I still have yet to fully understand this, and I'm certain that I never will completely grasp it, but I think of him often in this way and I still feel the pain when I do. Maybe as often as I remember, I also forget as well. But tonight I remember. I remember that I dare not "worship" unless I am worshiping him through the lens of serving the poor and the broken. I realize that I dare not forget the cost of his life for us and the justice he is bringing and calls us to bring. I realize again that I must align my worship in his presence and I must sit at his broken and holy feet and lose every part of me, if only to be found in him. I want to count everything as rubbish compared to knowing him and participating in his suffering.
This was the suffering servant of Isaiah 53...and why would he count any of us worthy to even share in his suffering, much less his glory?
Most often, as tonight, all the words cannot measure the scope of this greatness.
a vision of the Lord.
I have been wanting to make such an entry of my encounter with the broken Christ since last May, and I have felt altogether lacking in my ability to even begin to explain it. Any words seem so inferior, but what makes me begin my effort tonight? I don't know, but nevertheless, I will try.
Last May, I attended a conference at Denver Seminary called the Spiritual Formation Forum. The three day conference was focused on Journeying with Jesus. I was just beginning my own journey into the possibility of what it would look like to become a spiritual director or counselor, so I attended. At this conference, I helped my brother in law lead worship as well.
There are often times that, as much as I feel a passion for leading others in worship, that I ultimately despise it as well. I'm sure this sounds almost blasphemous, but it is true. It is based on the fact that I know our worship here on earth is such a shadow of things to come and I feel that so acutely that I sometimes hate even trying. It feels so lacking compared with the holiness of God. What if we were to even get a glimpse? We would be doing something altogether different that what we do. I am convinced that we would be on our faces in such a holy and spellbinding silence that the world would stand still for just a moment.
Our team led worship the first night and it felt so forced to me. I was nervous, I was so self-focused and nervous as I sang. The second night was when everything changed. Another group led worship, so we were able to just sit with all the others. I sat about half way back and others were clapping along to the music, but my spirit was revolted by it all. I sat there and the last thing I wanted to do was clap or raise my hands and all the worship leader kept saying or yelling was "raise your hands, praise the Lord, dance!", etc. I just couldn't do it and I didn't know why, but I was almost nauseated by it. I began to feel a pull to the back of the room. When I say pull, I mean pull. It was as if some force was telling me to go there and I just followed. I had to get out of the crowd and have some space to just be with God outside of this experience.
As I went closer to the back of the room, I began to watch from the back what we looked like and again, the nausea came back. I began to scream inside "this is all wrong!" It wasn't that the worship wasn't genuine, but it felt so misguided as I watched everyone facing towards the front, towards the worship team, I almost felt like I was watching them worship the wrong thing. This is the best way I can describe it and yet, in that moment, I could not understand what was happening or why. And then the vision came.
In my mind's eye, but as clear as if I'd physically turned around, I had a vision of the back of the room behind me and to my left. I did not turn around, but I could see it and what I saw took my breath away. I saw a man slumped in a chair in the corner of the back of the room against the wall. He was absolutely broken and silent and his clothes were ripped and hanging off of him. His skin was dirty and sweaty and his hair hung down low, sticking to most his face. He sat, dejected and slumped in pain and utterly alone. His arms were limp and his head hung low to his chest, but he was able to barely lift his eyes and he just watched us. As I take time to describe him, it may seem that I looked and observed him for a while, but the opposite is true. It was in the same exact moment that I first took in the vision of him that I recognized him and I knew. It was the Lord. It was Jesus. It was him, there was no doubt and yet the sight of him absolutely shocked me. My breath was gone from my chest, and yet now it was not just in the vision, for I physically could not catch my breath and in a sob I said to him, "Lord, what are you doing here like this? I don't understand this". And yet again, in that moment I felt I did understand because I saw what he was seeing. I wanted to yell at all the people "Stop your noises! He's back here, don't you see him???" But the noise kept on. There was the biggest chasm I have ever felt in what I explained earlier about being unfit for worship.
I began to not be able to contain what I was seeing. It was too much for me to contain the image of his holiness combined with the vision of his brokenness and his poverty and how he was appearing. It was just that. Absolute brokennes and ugliness and yet, he did not lose one fiber of his holiness and beauty. I don't even know how to describe the distinct span of the depth of the Savior that I experienced that night. I ran out of the room and all the way outside completely overwhelmed by it all. It literally felt like my heart was being wrenched out of my chest and then came a gut-wrenching cry that I don't know if I will ever, or if I would ever want to feel that again as long as I live. I felt like he was uniting me to his Passion and I cried "Lord, I can't take this! Why, Lord?"
After awhile, as I somewhat regained my composure, I was able to begin to go back inside. All of this happened unbeknownst to anyone else and so it became all the more overwhelming to understand. I went back into the room and began to listen as the guest speaker, who I was unfamiliar with (both who she was and what she was going to be speaking on) began her talk. It was all I could do to not dissolve again when she said, "tonight, I will be talking to you about recognizing Jesus in the poor and the broken". I knew, I KNEW that I had seen and encountered our beautiful savior, revealed in all his brokenness.
I still have yet to fully understand this, and I'm certain that I never will completely grasp it, but I think of him often in this way and I still feel the pain when I do. Maybe as often as I remember, I also forget as well. But tonight I remember. I remember that I dare not "worship" unless I am worshiping him through the lens of serving the poor and the broken. I realize that I dare not forget the cost of his life for us and the justice he is bringing and calls us to bring. I realize again that I must align my worship in his presence and I must sit at his broken and holy feet and lose every part of me, if only to be found in him. I want to count everything as rubbish compared to knowing him and participating in his suffering.
This was the suffering servant of Isaiah 53...and why would he count any of us worthy to even share in his suffering, much less his glory?
Most often, as tonight, all the words cannot measure the scope of this greatness.
a vision of the Lord.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Things I did on my 30th Birthday...
A simple blog bid farewell to my twenties and just to say that I had a really nice day...
I got a great call from a friend who ALWAYS remembers my birthday, even if it's the one time a year we talk.
I got a call from my sis who tried to get the kiddos to sing and they all chickened out...I smiled.
Jen and Kevin Fuller called on their way to Chicago. Jen is my girl birthday buddy. Love that!
I picked up my friend, Jessica from Union Station. She rode the train overnight from Lincoln to get here early and hang out with me on my birthday.
We got breakfast in the highlands and had a great conversation.
We got manicures and pedicures!!! wonderful!
Had lunch with Jessica and my friend Alan from church who is my boy birthday buddy. We ate greasy hamburgers and then sang happy birthday to each other and paid for each other's meal, which is kind of corny, but FUN! I gave him a lightsaber. That's right, a lightsaber.
I gave Jessica a tour of Hope House and then dropped her off.
I came to work at Hope House as usual.
Right now, I'm wishing I was asleep already, but hey, I only turn 30 once, right?
So, Happy Birthday to Me, Jen and Alan
Happy St. Joseph's Day...give it up for Jesus' dad!
And Happy Spring!!!
And Happy Easter!!!
I got a great call from a friend who ALWAYS remembers my birthday, even if it's the one time a year we talk.
I got a call from my sis who tried to get the kiddos to sing and they all chickened out...I smiled.
Jen and Kevin Fuller called on their way to Chicago. Jen is my girl birthday buddy. Love that!
I picked up my friend, Jessica from Union Station. She rode the train overnight from Lincoln to get here early and hang out with me on my birthday.
We got breakfast in the highlands and had a great conversation.
We got manicures and pedicures!!! wonderful!
Had lunch with Jessica and my friend Alan from church who is my boy birthday buddy. We ate greasy hamburgers and then sang happy birthday to each other and paid for each other's meal, which is kind of corny, but FUN! I gave him a lightsaber. That's right, a lightsaber.
I gave Jessica a tour of Hope House and then dropped her off.
I came to work at Hope House as usual.
Right now, I'm wishing I was asleep already, but hey, I only turn 30 once, right?
So, Happy Birthday to Me, Jen and Alan
Happy St. Joseph's Day...give it up for Jesus' dad!
And Happy Spring!!!
And Happy Easter!!!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
How life is...
A late night here at Hope House...it's my choice this time, but even when it's not, I don't mind. I'm sitting in the office here, eating an occasional chocolate pretzel, trying not to smudge chocolate on my white Macbook. All my stuff from my overnight bag to a projector and my trusty guitar is sprawled out all over the place now that the girls have gone to bed. To me, this is a beautiful thing. To me this is like home and home for my heart. So why did I take that other job? Well, that's what I've been asking myself for the past 3 weeks.
I thought it was God's plan, although there wasn't any over-abundance of peace, but it seemed that the outward circumstances and wisdom spoke louder than my inward doubts. It was what I'd been asking for, right? There certainly were a lot of green lights, so I decided to leap after pondering for a week after being offered the job. Maybe it is His plan, but as I've sat in that office for the past 3 weeks, I have felt that a very big part of me is just shriveling up. I feel almost withered and I dread going every single day, which by the way, is only Monday, Tuesday and part of Wednesday. I can honestly say that I can count on one hand the times I've ever felt that way about Hope House in the past year and a half...and that was just after an extremely tough week, but with this job it's every day. This can't be good, can it?
Now, don't get me wrong, the job I have is probably amazing. There are people who would kill for a job like this. A fairly high profile organization that does such amazing non profit work and the job just fell into my lap, out of nowhere. There was no application process, it was like it was there for the taking and I don't even know why. I still don't get why they thought I was the best candidate for the job. I really, really don't know.
On top of that, I didn't even have to totally quit working at Hope House. I just dropped down from 4 overnights to 2 overnights a week, so I thought it wasn't a big deal. But you know what? I hate it! I hate being gone from here. I honestly had no idea how much I'd miss being here with the girls and kids and feeling connected to their lives. Laughing, crying, praying, dealing with the annoyances and loving them and their kids all the more.
The thing is, if God's doing something bigger than what I can fathom and immediately see, then fine. I'm all for that. But at the risk of being a drama queen, I'm starting to feel like Marty McFly in back to the future. Remember that scene when he goes back in time and his future mom starts dancing with another guy besides his future dad and he takes out the picture of his family and they are starting to disappear and his hand is, too? I kind of feel like I'm venturing down some weird path that sets my stomach to flipping at the thought of it. It's not even that I think there's this one selected path and if I miss it, God's gonna strike me down. I feel freedom there, but with the freedom of choice comes the desolation and consolation and boy, do I feel desolate at this point in time.
I feel like I could drop this job in 1.5 seconds and never look back in regret. But, how do I balance these emotions with what might be something that I'm supposed to learn from? Just because something is uncomfortable, doesn't mean it's wrong, but where do I place my emotions?
Also, this is a tough time because I'm still missing mom after 11 years and today is her death day. I know it's truly for her a passing to LIFE day, but for us down here, it's still death and it still stings temporarily. So many days I just want to call her on the phone like I used to. How I would love to hear what she'd have to say about all this.
I'm 29, teetering on the edge of 30, which means that this year and at this particular time, I'm the exact age mom was when she had me. The void feels bigger each year. I used to get annoyed when friends would whine about their age and so now I'm annoyed at myself! I think, "Get over it!!!: But I do feel bummed that my 30th birthday is next Wednesday and is sandwiched on either side by two weddings: One the weekend before, and one the weekend after. One of the things that happened when I thought about taking this job was that my boss here at Hope House said "You won't be a residential counselor at Hope House forever, but this opportunity could be your career" And I thought immediately that I don't want or care about a freaking career because I really just want to be a wife and a mom and I know I'm called to music and to ministry.
I felt God calling me to a strict focus this year and now I just feel like I'm all over the place, in such a place of unrest. So where does this leave me? Well, before I say anything else, I know that if you read this blog, you might begin to wonder if I'm perpetually depressed and bemoaning my single state and in a constant mode of reminiscing. I really don't think that's true, it's just that when I get to a point of needing to vent something out, it's usually here that I do it to get some semblance of order.
Again, where does this leave me? Well, must God change my feelings? What if that doesn't happen? A couple of weeks ago as I was working, I felt an overwhelming sense of just wanting to leave and not come back and then in the depth of that feeling, there was this Peace, and I mean Peace, as in it was like a tangible person, which I can only assume was Jesus was right beside me. I felt something touch my head, akin to when a dad or grandpa pats his kids on the head to comfort. That's what it felt like and I heard him say, "It's okay, there's a reason for this, just hang on". I guess I'm just trying to figure out what that means.
I thought it was God's plan, although there wasn't any over-abundance of peace, but it seemed that the outward circumstances and wisdom spoke louder than my inward doubts. It was what I'd been asking for, right? There certainly were a lot of green lights, so I decided to leap after pondering for a week after being offered the job. Maybe it is His plan, but as I've sat in that office for the past 3 weeks, I have felt that a very big part of me is just shriveling up. I feel almost withered and I dread going every single day, which by the way, is only Monday, Tuesday and part of Wednesday. I can honestly say that I can count on one hand the times I've ever felt that way about Hope House in the past year and a half...and that was just after an extremely tough week, but with this job it's every day. This can't be good, can it?
Now, don't get me wrong, the job I have is probably amazing. There are people who would kill for a job like this. A fairly high profile organization that does such amazing non profit work and the job just fell into my lap, out of nowhere. There was no application process, it was like it was there for the taking and I don't even know why. I still don't get why they thought I was the best candidate for the job. I really, really don't know.
On top of that, I didn't even have to totally quit working at Hope House. I just dropped down from 4 overnights to 2 overnights a week, so I thought it wasn't a big deal. But you know what? I hate it! I hate being gone from here. I honestly had no idea how much I'd miss being here with the girls and kids and feeling connected to their lives. Laughing, crying, praying, dealing with the annoyances and loving them and their kids all the more.
The thing is, if God's doing something bigger than what I can fathom and immediately see, then fine. I'm all for that. But at the risk of being a drama queen, I'm starting to feel like Marty McFly in back to the future. Remember that scene when he goes back in time and his future mom starts dancing with another guy besides his future dad and he takes out the picture of his family and they are starting to disappear and his hand is, too? I kind of feel like I'm venturing down some weird path that sets my stomach to flipping at the thought of it. It's not even that I think there's this one selected path and if I miss it, God's gonna strike me down. I feel freedom there, but with the freedom of choice comes the desolation and consolation and boy, do I feel desolate at this point in time.
I feel like I could drop this job in 1.5 seconds and never look back in regret. But, how do I balance these emotions with what might be something that I'm supposed to learn from? Just because something is uncomfortable, doesn't mean it's wrong, but where do I place my emotions?
Also, this is a tough time because I'm still missing mom after 11 years and today is her death day. I know it's truly for her a passing to LIFE day, but for us down here, it's still death and it still stings temporarily. So many days I just want to call her on the phone like I used to. How I would love to hear what she'd have to say about all this.
I'm 29, teetering on the edge of 30, which means that this year and at this particular time, I'm the exact age mom was when she had me. The void feels bigger each year. I used to get annoyed when friends would whine about their age and so now I'm annoyed at myself! I think, "Get over it!!!: But I do feel bummed that my 30th birthday is next Wednesday and is sandwiched on either side by two weddings: One the weekend before, and one the weekend after. One of the things that happened when I thought about taking this job was that my boss here at Hope House said "You won't be a residential counselor at Hope House forever, but this opportunity could be your career" And I thought immediately that I don't want or care about a freaking career because I really just want to be a wife and a mom and I know I'm called to music and to ministry.
I felt God calling me to a strict focus this year and now I just feel like I'm all over the place, in such a place of unrest. So where does this leave me? Well, before I say anything else, I know that if you read this blog, you might begin to wonder if I'm perpetually depressed and bemoaning my single state and in a constant mode of reminiscing. I really don't think that's true, it's just that when I get to a point of needing to vent something out, it's usually here that I do it to get some semblance of order.
Again, where does this leave me? Well, must God change my feelings? What if that doesn't happen? A couple of weeks ago as I was working, I felt an overwhelming sense of just wanting to leave and not come back and then in the depth of that feeling, there was this Peace, and I mean Peace, as in it was like a tangible person, which I can only assume was Jesus was right beside me. I felt something touch my head, akin to when a dad or grandpa pats his kids on the head to comfort. That's what it felt like and I heard him say, "It's okay, there's a reason for this, just hang on". I guess I'm just trying to figure out what that means.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
cars, weddings, and supermodels...
It's a strange title for a post, I know. The fact of the matter is that I haven't blogged in quite some time and so the outcome of that is that I'm going to smash three random thoughts together in quick fashion because it's late, I'm tired and my dishwasher is running. That last fact is true, but really has nothing to do with anything at all. Just thought I'd add that explanation in case anyone might get stuck wondering about the significance of my dishwasher and miss the rest of my brilliant blog. Do read on.
Two days ago I set out to write the list that I've been meaning to make for a while now. It's always been just because I wanted to, but recently it became necessity. I'm singing in a wedding in late March. The day before Easter and 3 days after my 30th birthday, in fact. I don't really know these people, but I said yes anyway. Well, they needed some suggestions for wedding songs, so I thought it's high time to make that list of all the songs I've sung at weddings. In the process of doing this, it made even more sense to make the list of the weddings I've sung at. That way I could actually picture and remember what I sang. Want to know what I came up with? I bet you do! I've been the wedding singer 17 going on 18 times! This doesn't count the times I've also been a bridesmaid...and yes, it's more than three times, so there! Now, I surprised even myself because I've never made the list before and once I started I kept remembering more and more...I've felt honored to be asked each time, but gosh, it sure seems like a lot...
I was laying in bed thinking last night about the list and when I came to the number of 17, it gave me pause...I thought to myself, "Hey, that's the same number of cars that I've had!" Yes, I've had 17 cars in my lifetime...crazy, but still true. So really, there's no corelation there, just random at best...I think. I started driving at 16 and I sang in my first wedding at 16, too. Is this some kind of strange coping mechanism??? Okay, I'm just kidding.
So, on to my third thought. Today was Superbowl Sunday. God bless football. Patriots vs. NY Giants. The underdog Giants kicked some undefeated Patriots tail. Pretty impressive. Well, anyone who's been watching tv knows that the media talks about the Patriot's quarterback Tom Brady a lot. But almost more that his football abilities, they stalk him obsessively about his relationship with girlfriend Gisele Bundchen, you know, that model from Victoria's Secret that makes you NOT want to ever buy anything from there because 1) my legs will never be 10 feet long like hers and 2) I'm not really sure I would want 10 foot long legs...(maybe one size bigger bra if I was ordering it up, but that's another topic never to be discussed...yeah.) Well anyway, one of the guys I watched the game with said something about Gisele having this weird birth defect that made her legs grow ridiculously long and so it made her the supermodel she is when Victoria's Secret capitalized on that. So after I got home, I hit my trusty Google to find out if it was true. I didn't find that out, but I did find Gisele's very own official web site. Turns out that at 27, she's the world's 16th richest woman...and then here's why I'm rambling about Gisele. She had sections she wrote about growing up, teen years, ambitions, interests and dreams...You want to know what she put as her one dream? Hmmm...let's guess: Make a few million more bucks? No. Buy out Oprah by the time she hits 30? No. Get a leg reduction? Noooo...Her dream is to have a family of her own and that it would be as good as when she grew up with her 5 sisters and parents in Brazil. So, Ms. beautiful, rich, successful Gisele has one dream and that is to be a wife and mom. Go figure, eh? And so, not that I use Gisele as my moral meter, but it did give me thought that when it all boils down, we're all pretty much the same in those ingrained desires. So, even with 10 foot legs, I hope Tom dumps her or makes an honest man of himself...maybe with a baby she'll even out with 10 foot wide hips...okay, I'm done!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)