Finding Hope

Kids are sticky, loud, and look at me like I have two heads if I tell them no. 
What's the point of teaching them? They're not even listening to me.


The previous statement used to be my philosophy on children. I didn't talk to them, I avoided babysitting situations like the plague, and I definitely did not plan on having any of my own.

Upon moving back to West Virginia, I resumed going to Chestnut Ridge Church. A few months go by, and a friend suggested I tried volunteering. I was either too young or too awkward for everything...except kidz ministry.

Test Drive in action.

1yr old room- My ears rang for a week. My head was not going to allow that.
2yr old room- You just hit me in the forehead with a plastic train and you're the one crying?
5yr old room: Three words... playdoh in water. Ew.
Kindergarten: I couldn't sit down, because I was afraid I would break those tiny chairs.

By this time, I was ready to admit defeat. Kids were not my thing. The next Sunday I clocked in with the idea that I would tell the kidzone director that I was calling it quits. She approached me first, asking if I wanted to help with 2nd grade that day.

That was the first week when I really felt at home. The lesson plans were fun and creative. The games were well thought out. The kids not only listened, but they created intelligent discussions. I would stay and do my best.

Every day I am increasingly excited to see the kids. MY kids. When I'm up late at night, I'm wondering how their Westest scores were, because one little girl was so worried about it. I refresh my email constantly, waiting for my lesson for the next week. I just ordered popsicle sticks and red thread to make little trinkets for them to hang and decorate, because I think it might make them smile. Sunday has become my favorite day, without a doubt.

This fall I fell into a deep depression, but ever since I started volunteering I feel better. I can smile again because I have hope (which happens to be our virtue for the month (; ). I have seen more of the Lord in these children than I have seen anywhere else. They have saved me in more ways than they will ever know.

In worship today, I found myself crying. I think God not only placed me in kidzone to help children find him, he wanted me to find him too. Being a kidzone leader gave me the initiative to be there every Sunday, but being with the kids gave me the strength to recognize my Father. "Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'" Matthew 19:14


A special thanks to Jenny Dailey for allowing me this special opportunity. <3

"I called you answered
And you came to my rescue and I
I wanna be where you are"

Heal

hands like snakes
slithering through silence
quiet as the mouse it consumes
taking hold of the meek
the unsuspecting
their doe-eyed innocence
transformed
now as bitter as the emerald apple

when I close my eyes
I won't see his hands on her face
the human clock
tick...
tock.
a nauseating roadmap.

the calender blows kisses
as it flips through it's pages
cloaking me behind walls
built on knowledge
born from the embers of love
burned away by your humanity

maybe if I take enough aimless walks
I'll find direction
touching your heart
licking my wounds
setting my watching to the ball drop
praying over the compass
to cage the serpent

Hide

Chapped skin
Blue from the surrounding chill
Slush running through veins
Soft thuds of a hidden heart
Pleading for the mouth to be unsewn
To feel the warmth
Radiating from your arms
A body shies away
While the mind clings tighter
Your eternity of solitude
Has only begun
A vow of silence
So the ice does not melt
So the warmth of the fire
Does not scald your breakable digits.
Hide away
With your singed off thumbprints
And your empty eyes
Disappear into the frost.
Escape.

The Beginning

Like your fingertips in winter
Like your chilled cheeks at dawn
Like your glazed eyes late night
All it is, is numb.
While the rainwater is rising
Above your knobby white ankles
The streaks of color
Are dripping from your white-knuckled fists.
Your heart will race
As the goblet runs dry.
Your lips will be chapped.
The kaleidoscope color
Stolen from your eyes.
But no,
The hands moving over you,
You will not feel.
Your calloused fingers
May twitch and curl
But you are numb.
But you will heal.
Eventually.
Like a half-written equation
Or the leaf that's yet to fall
You are incomplete.
Like the poem missing a stanza
Or the kiss without love
Awaken from your slumber.
Feel.
Rise.

Sparrows, Butterflies, and Tsunamis

Rise from the broken,
The beaten,
The blind.
Rise to overcome;
Leaving it behind.
Raise your flag high,
Proclaim your strength.
You are a warrior.
Victim, no sir.
I am victorious
over lies,
over deception.
Like a natural disaster:
Unstoppable.
Undefinable.
Rising,
In the face of evil
To become beautiful.
Metamorphoses.
The butterfly,
Reaching
Towards the sun-drenched skies.
Her true colors,
Soaring.

Cornucopia Coloring Books.

“Thanksgiving is around the corner. What are you thankful for?”

My first grade self sighs at Miss Talbert’s over-enthusiasm for such a trivial holiday. Really? A day based solely upon gluttonous behavior? I recite back to her the words my Sunday school teacher had repeated nearly thirty times that past Sunday. “I’m thankful that Jesus died for my sins.” She smiles and claps vigorously. This was her first year teaching, and though her sickeningly sweet perfume came off of her in waves, we could still smell her fear of failure. The kids had yet to break her excitement to ‘teach about the holidays’. I honestly didn’t know what I was so much more grateful for today than any other day. I liked my parents. Though my cat would scratch me whenever I came into contact with her, I had a pet. It didn’t seem any different except for the fact that we were coloring Cornucopias instead of doing simple math.

To this day, after ten more years to contemplate the meaning of Thanksgiving, I still draw a blank. When asked “Talia, what are you thankful for?” I still give the generic answer like “Family.” Everyone claps or nods, I sit down, and life goes on. 

There’s so much more I want to say though. I’m thankful for…

• The slipcover on hot pockets, so you don’t burn your hand.
• 80s Hair Bands
• The eggs you crack and find two yolks in.
• Dr.Seuss books.
• The little plastic thing in swimsuit bottoms for when you try them on.
• The snooze button.
• The satisfying crunch of Pringles.
• That pair of jeans that makes your butt look awesome.
• Pizza Delivery.
• The stress-relieving effects of bubble wrap.
• Hello Kitty band-aids.
• That the seats on an airplane can be used as a flotation device. 
• Snow days.
• Laughing so hard that you have to check if you peed a little.
• Christian Bale’s Batman voice.

I could continue writing these until the sun spontaneously combusts, but it would be unnecessary. I am grateful for all the little things of life. Appreciation should not be exclusive to the one day the federal government deems. Its continuous. Every day. 

Say “Thanks!” to the person that hold the door for you on their way out.

Smile at the cashier making your Pumpkin Spice Latte rather than grumbling about the exorbitant amount you have to pay for it.

When you’re walking down the street and you and an oncoming person try to dodge each other and go the same way… twice… laugh and say “Oh my god! We must be telepathically connected!” 

Whatever you do, do it with love. Love your world, the people in it, and even the carved turkey on your table. Be grateful for every day, every second, every breath.

Happy Thanksgiving to my lovely audience <3

Appendix Girl.

It always makes me giggle when guys tell me “You have my heart.”

I restrain myself from rolling my eyes. I get that weird feeling when you’re accidentally seated in first class rather than economy. Will someone please downgrade me so that all is right with the world again?

Your heart? Really? Can’t I just have your kidney or spleen or something, I mean, your heart is one of the got-to-have necessary organs. I’m not really a serious, life-or-death relationship kind of girl. On most occasions cat-and-string theory has me goddamn pinned. There was one exception, but that ended badly. Maybe he had realized that I’m really worth nothing more than an appendix. I can be your appendix girl. 

You see, the appendix is a ticking time bomb. It has no benefit, and then will eventually screw you over. Appendix removal is easy. A heart… Well that’s a different story. 

<3