"Acasă"

Daniel Griswell

Casey Lopez

ENG 101

28 March 2017

"Acasă"

            Vreau să cânt, să visez și să râd, [I want to sing, to dream and to laugh,]

Dar, să nu uit să mă joc câteodată. [But I don't want to forget to play sometimes.]

Și-atunci când în lume voi pleca, [And then when I step into the world,]

Să nu uit să mă întorc acasă. [I don't want to forget to come back home.]†

I want to walk cobblestone streets lined with twisted wrought-iron fences, and hear wind chimes from tiny garden courtyards full of cherry trees. I want to feel the soft breeze dancing through the alleyways of centuries-old apartment homes with hanging window-boxes full of geraniums. I want to hear the voices of children born of Italy, Hungary, Deutschland, Ukraine, Russia, and Romanian heritage, and join in a streetside hand-clapping game that unites all their hands in one common rhythm.

I want to walk pathways beaten down by countless sandaled feet, and watch cows make their sunset march across city streets as BMW, Mercedes, and Dacia Dusters wait patiently for the bovine parade to pass. I want to sit at a table with "familia mea", laughing with a joy born of Heaven, while bowls of supă de pui are followed by delicious sarmale, and hands are joined in prayer for loved ones near and far.

I want to see shepherds sitting on hillsides filled with heather and wheatgrass, and sheep creating a puffy cumulus cloud of wool in constantly shifting shapes. I want to hear church bells from thousand year-old belfrys, and handbells ringing in the chapels and cathedrals. I want to ride in cars driven by 5-speed speed-demons who laugh when you say "Go faster!" I want to sit on the front stoop by the orange pay phone and sip "Apa Minerale" while street dancers with bells on their heels and cymbals on their wrists walk by in a symphony of percussive cadence. I want to hear the language of angels, and the muzica cerului (music of Heaven) from the voices of children in Bistrita, Herina, Șieu, and further up and further in.

While this ever-lingering desire might be like "seeing green horses on the wall", my heart still sings of that possibility. Maybe next time, I can take more of it in. Until then, (if only in my mind,) I won't ever forget to come back home.

"A Calloused Heart"

When I have something to say that is longer than a Facebook status, I usually just make a blog post. Because of length, yes, but also because I know that people who truly want to read deeper will click away from Facebook for a moment, and those who are just there for pictures of puppies and memes about "Can I get an AMEN?" will skip over it.

Now--

You know those stories where a person has been hopelessly lost and confused, or is wounded over something that happened years ago, and then a particular person comes along, says one sentence to them, and it's like a light is thrown upon the darkness and all is made clear? That happened to me this week. A friend said to me:

"You were a burden only for those who didn't make time for you."

To that friend, thank you. You may never know or understand the profound healing that statement had after years of crippling confusion and sadness. I mean it. You unlocked something that I didn't think I would ever be able to make sense of, and you did it with one sentence. Thank you, my friend. ...

(I cried when you said it.)

Anyway...on to the second part of this.

Today in church we sang a praise song than contained in it's lyrics something akin to "Don't let my heart become a calloused heart." I don't remember all the words, because at that moment it was like a little light flickered on. 

I need to say a few things, here. Without being flowery with my words, I'm going to tell you a list of facts about me.

1. My heart is calloused. It just is. I've made it that way over time, not because of wanting it to be, but because I've been blindsided so many times that it's easier to not let people in.

2. If you lock people out, you lock God out also. I've done a pretty good job of that. I love God. I love Jesus. I love serving, but my favorite areas of service have become more "guarded" now to the point that they don't carry the same joy I always had in them.

3. Every Sunday, and many nights in prayer I hit my heart's knees and beg God to break me. Break me from this. Make my heart able to sing again. I want it so desperately, but when I finish praying, I know nothing has changed. My wall is still up.

4. There have been VERY SPECIAL people along the way who have been able to kick a brick loose from that wall at their eye-level, and reach a hand in long enough to give me the hope I need to know that healing is there. My heart is not hardened so much that it can't be helped....because I have felt it "give" a little, here and there.

5. I know that three years ago was where it began. I built myself a wall at that moment. My first wall. Then, a little more than a year ago, I threw up another one. Six months ago, I threw up a third. (And it only takes three walls to box someone in.)

6. My heart is so tired. I have so much more to do in this life, and I am ready for all of it to begin...but my heart is so tired. I used to give it away freely, because as an INFP, I am literally either "all in", or "all out" when it comes to sharing my heart. That part sucks. (And in case you aren't aware, it's not OK for a man to be this type of person...not in the world's eyes. That's not a sexist observation, it's an observation about sexism.)

7. And finally, this: The other day, I was shooting kids' soccer pictures. It was raining that day, off and on. I was under a tent with my camera catching all the action. I saw the kids on the field slipping and sliding on the wet ground as they enjoyed their first game of the season. Coaches were encouraging them. Parents were cheering them on. The ball was being traded back and forth between wet sets of soccer cleats....

..and then, suddenly there was this one little kid who forgot all about the game for a few seconds and reveled in something that truly mattered to her.

I know what I want.

I want to be that kid.

Can I be that kid, please?

<><

**By the way, if you are the parent of that child, please message me. I want to thank you AND her for that moment of clarity.**

A Dozen Roses

This really all began with a photo. Not my photo, though. Any photographer who is unwilling to learn from or be inspired by other photographers is doomed to failure. That morning in particular, I opened my Facebook and saw the photo below:

I knew the moment I saw it I wanted to recreate it with my own style. I wanted the rose to be red, and not quite so "bloomed out", for starters, but the more I thought about it, the more ideas came to mind.

Then I heard a pastor speak one day, and he talked about how when a man gives a woman a dozen roses, it seems like a big thing. But what if instead of giving her a dozen roses, he gave her a rose every day for twelve days? That way, she would smile 12 times instead of just once, and in twelve days, she would still have a new flower in her hand, instead of 12 dead ones.

So my idea was born: "A Dozen Roses". One rose every day, for twelve kids. It cost me the price of two trips to Burger King, and instead of calories, I got 12 smiles in return. (Actually 14, because a couple of these kids had close siblings and I didn't want to leave them out.)

Anna Rae loves horses, and she rides English style. She speaks in a beautiful whisper.

Braylee is a tiny dancer, and her eyes shine like topaz gemstones.

Alleigh's smile lights up the darkest days, and her laughter is like music.

Madison wants to be a supermodel, but she has a goofy side that is only outshone by her cerulean blue eyes. (Yes, they are THAT blue.)

Sierra has had multiple open heart surgeries, and each time her parents were told to say goodbye prior to the procedure. She keeps coming back, and that means God has something important for her to do. I can't wait to see what it is. <><

Callie's parents inspire me every Sunday in church, and Callie herself may be coming around to me. Maybe. Potentially. I think this look speaks volumes about that. <3

Melanie wears her heart on her sleeve, but she also holds a chunk of MY heart in her hands. That baby. Gah. 

Breanna grabbed my hand on the day she met me, and her mom said "She doesn't trust easily. That's crazy that she went to you like that." (All this, and Heaven, too?)

Lily is my parrot. She is too big to do this now, but she used to sit on my shoulder and squawk when I would talk like a pirate and say "And this be me parrot." <3

Charlotte has a quiet force of calm all around her. She has no sweat glands, so she can't get too hot, but it's like she exudes a cool breeze of gentleness from her very spirit.

Kenleigh is not a quiet storm.  She's a true country girl, and she can level you with her eyes.

Brittley's family I literally just met, and yet, when I saw her in her "Little House on the Prairie" dress that Sunday, I knew I wanted hers to be the last rose. 

<>< <>< <><

Twelve roses, twelve little princesses, twelve beautiful smiles afterward.

Wow...that was like, more fun than I ever anticipated starting out!

I think I want to do it again...with a different subject this time.

Maybe "Freckles"...where I choose twelve kids with amazing freckles!

Or maybe "Face of the Valley" with one student from each local high school.

Stay tuned. :D