Monday, 16 September 2013

Just Finished: Warm Bodies



This book intrigued and pissed me off all at the same time. I had heard about this book and the movie for quite some time but never had any interest but it was the pick of my book club so I waited to the last possible second to read it. I'm glad I did, although I am SO frustrated. This book is so close to the truth yet so far away all at the same time. It does its best to warm and fuzzy this aching, calling part in the depths of people but then leaves the reader with the only answer this world seems to care about: hormonal, teenage "love" saves the world. 

Really? 

Anyone who is on the other side of teenage love knows that it is intense feeling, to be sure, but lasting? Hardly. 

Here's what intrigued me about the book—one little part right towards the end:

"This plague...," Julie says in a very soft voice. "This curse...I have an idea where it came from..."
The clouds are thin and pink overhead, stretched out into delicately textured swirls. A bracing cold wind whips across the roof and makes us squint.
"I don't think it's from any spell or virus or nuclear rays. I think it's from a deeper place. I think we brought it here."
Our shoulders are pressed together. She is cool to the touch. As if her warmth is retreating, curling deep inside her to escape the extinguishing wind.
"I think we crushed ourselves down over the centuries. Buried ourselves under greed and hate and whatever other sins we could find until our souls finally hit the rock bottom of the universe. And then they scraped a hole through it, into some...dark place."
I hear pigeons cooing somewhere in the eaves. Starlings zip and dive against the sky, pretty much unaffected by the end of our silly civilization.
"We released it. We poked through the seabed and the oil erupted, painted us black, pulled our inner sickness out for everyone to see. Now here we are in the dry corpse of a world, rotting on our feet till there's nothing left but bones and the buzz of flies."
So. much. truth. right. there.

But then it all gets solved when the zombie and the girl kiss, because they love each other, and something magic happens—he comes back to life. Let's just mention on the side that the only reason he loves her is because he has memories of her by eating her boyfriend's brain. What? I can't even go into how that is all sorts of wrong or how messed up this world is that this book is so popular with the teenage girls that there is a movie. AHHHH. It's Twilight all over again but with zombies instead of vampires. 

And to make it even more maddening is that it hits on truth: the answer to saving the world from such a horrible state IS love. But how can a week-old fleeting, teenage love (that hasn't even stood the test of a seasoned 60-year old marriage) be the answer to a world full of zombies created through centuries of our greed and hate and other SINS? (Let's just make a note that the word "sin" is actually used.) That's like putting a band-aid over an oil spill and calling the problem solved. Will NEVER work. 

Only a powerful, incredible, never failing love could possibly come close to fixing the problem. Only a mind-boggling love could bring the dead to life.

I know of a book who has an answer. It's called the Bible. It's been around for a very long time. Long enough for people to take the truth of it and water it down into a teenage hormonal version and call it an answer. 

For God so LOVED the world that He gave his only begotten Son so that whoever believes in Him should NOT PERISH but have eternal life. John 3:16
I've "just found" the answer for the zombie apocalypse. You're welcome.

Monday, 10 June 2013

Poem: (I'M)POSSIBLE


A heart is thick, heavy 
because of impossible.
A glimpse of heaven
only from afar. I see
motions made,
hearts unchanged, discouraged.
Impossible.

A heart stopped,
too full.
Heaven descended, embedded.
Far is near—inside, changing.
Impossible?!
Possible,
I AM.

Thursday, 30 May 2013

Poem: Saved


Eyes full of laughter
A glint that won't cut deep

My hand is tucked in
Secured

Sleek towers turn scarlet maple
Grey stone to springy moss
Sun glows skin amber

All I've lost
Forgotten

Thursday, 31 January 2013

Writing: Long Time

I've been MIA for a while. I have a good reason. I've been writing. A lot. I started a new novel that I am really, really, really excited about. My critique groups are really excited about it too which is a good sign. I hope that this is one that makes it into the world and I can share it with you all.

I started my blog for one reason only: to practice writing and get over the fear of putting it out there. Okay, that was two reason. Sorry. Through this blogging journey it's been a nice surprise to have people actually read my blog—especially since I break quite a few of the blogging "rules":

The main rule is to post consistently and frequently.
FAIL.
Another rule is to pick ONE thing to write about (parenting or gardening for example).
FAIL.

I do have one rule when it comes to my non-conforming blog: only post when I have something to say.
FAIL.

This post isn't saying much but it is a reminder that I'm still here. When I come up to take a breath from my novel I'll get some more content on here.

Until then...

J


Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Poem: The Fall


Tears of red and gold fall softly to the ground
The beauty you held releases around
You stand stripped and naked so you can survive
The cold is harsh and barren but you will not die.

You bravely endure the bitter times ahead
And slowly, so slowly, your soul starts to mend
New life quickens and surges, flowing hope to each part
Beauty lost now returns, unfurling love in your heart.

Wednesday, 10 October 2012

Thoughts: The appearance of Holy




My husband and I were in Europe for a few weeks this summer. It was a romantic second honeymoon that started in Paris (where I will be living in the near future, or so I dream). My husband, being the pastor that he is, dragged me into every old church we came across. We stood and stared at the incredible ceilings and frescoes and arches and soaked in the general 'majesticness' of the buildings.



Thousands of tourists enter these churches every year. I watched some of them—heck, I was one of them! We all gazed in awe at the appearance of holy and I found myself wondering how many people enter these great cathedrals and experience the Holy of God.

He was there, God/Jesus. There were figures of Him nailed to a cross hanging over the altars, paintings of Him performing miracles, being crucified or after He was raised from the dead. His story was everywhere.



My favourite of all the churches was Sainte Chapelle with it's soaring stained glass windows that fill the church with a mystical light.


As I stood in the nave and gazed at the workmanship I asked God some questions:

Are you here?

Does this building...with all its stained glass and expensive art and exquisite craftsmanship...does it please you? It was built for you, you know.

Then my thoughts turned inward:

Am I like this? Am I desperately trying to be like this old and glorious cathedral, just someone who has an appearance of holiness?

But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: "Be holy, because I am Holy." 1 Peter 1:15-16

I fall short of holiness daily but I keep striving for it. I yearn to be holy, I plead that each day, moment, thought, decision is one that pleases God. And isn't that when Holy is found—in the little breaths of every day? Because if we can't be Christ-like in the little moments then the big moments will surely fall short. It seems silly to think that holy can be found when my daughter spills her milk on the floor...but that's the beautiful mystery of a life that yearns for God and is covered in grace.

And I did experience holy in Europe. It was in Germany, in a little church that sat at the bottom of a hill covered in gravestones and flowers and the greenest grass. The church was built in the 14th century. It had beautiful scenes painted on the walls that were faded by time. I watched the lives of two dearly loved people join as one. It was a holy moment. A little breath in time steeped in the presence of God.