wounding is part of the walk

in the bending and the breaking
and the wrecking of this world,
there’s the peace and still descending
from your solitary word,
that no matter what confronts me
or how foul the bitter cold,
or how piercing is the tearing
of my heart from loving bold,
or how anger, lust, resentment come
uproot the lives of friends,
or how fierce the drought and fire
of the words that cut and blend
all the lies and shouts and voices
casting doubt in depth of mind,
that no matter all these things above
or any more i’ll find,
your love it will consume me
and a bed for me to rest
it will make, each day remind me,
from the heavens i’ve been blessed.
and in the bending and the breaking
and the wrecking of this day,
i will shut my eyes, in joyful lull,
and in Your love, i’ll lay.

a bean curd heart

my mother scolds me for lacking a stiff upper lip. my reactions are too obvious. i don't have tough enough skin. she likens me to silken tofu that crumbles at the slightest touch of the wooden spoon in a wok. her index finger will point to and fro as she begins each of her sentences with, 'all i'm trying to say is...'

according to my mother, i am soft like tofu.

it's true in a sense. i feel with my gut and make decisions by instinct a lot of the time. if i'm afraid, i will hide. if you come too close, i will run away.  if we fight, i will cry.  if things break, i'll be the first to say sorry. if i'm tired, i won't cope. if i'm anxious, i will bite my nails. if i'm sad, i won't leave my bed. if i miss you, i will mope around waiting for you to call. if it's right, i'll not stop trying. if i love you, i know i'll never change my mind.

it's easy to call these the weaknesses of a girl who wears the heart of a romantic on her sleeve. but i'm not convinced they're all bad things all of the time. even if i am a mass of bean curd, i know i'm sometimes that rubbery, fried stuff you often find in pad thai - at the very least, can be a little bit hardy.