ACCEPTANCE.

"People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over."
Jim Morrison

I accept that he's gone. I do this because I have no other choice. Death is not something that can be avoided, nor should it be. It is the end of one life, and the beginning of a life in a place much more wonderful than this. There are no wars there. There is no poverty, hunger, anger, or pain. There is no regret, hate, or worry. I accepted long ago that this place existed. However, I found it hard to accept that the people that I love will make the transition from here to there. I have never feared my own death. I have never seen death as something to be afraid of. I know where I'm going when I die. I know the contents of my heart. The problem that I have is one caused by pure selfishness. I do not want to give away those who I love. When it comes to accepting death, children seem to have an understanding that adults do not. When Wayne passed away, I was 5. I did not understand, and I asked my mom where he went. She said, "He went to Heaven." That answer was enough for me. I felt special because I knew someone who was in Heaven. When Lisa passed away, I was not much older, but I still found comfort knowing that she was with Wayne. Oh, he loved her so much. I was at peace. Through the years, I saw many people go to Heaven. There was Iva, followed by Belton. As a child, that made sense to me. I wanted them to be together. Granny Smith passed away, and I was glad to know that she was in a place where pain did not exist. I lost my Grandfather when I was 7, and I understood. The years passed by, and I started to have a different view of death. We lost Seth, Tabitha, Jason, John, Grant, and Sharon all within a 4 year span. These were people that were my age, and I no longer saw the peaceful side of death. I was not afraid of it, but I certainly hated it. I was growing up, and I lost the innocence that only children can have. The world that we live in is a cruel one, and it takes a toil on our souls each year that we are here. As we grow older, we are told that we will gain knowledge and wisdom. But, not much is said about what we lose. Children are seen as gullible. If you tell them that something is true, they believe it. They do not feel the need to analyze each detail, searching for flaws and errors. They are innocent, and when they love someone or something, it is a love that is pure and without motive. The bond between God and children is strong, because it is without doubt or question. As a 21 year old, I wonder when I stopped having the blind faith that children are known for. I remember the songs we sang in Vacation Bible School that had lyrics such as, "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world..." In times like this, maybe we should stop worrying about acting like adults and let whatever childish thoughts we may have be the ones that matter the most. Maybe we should let a tiny bit of that blind faith come back into our lives.

Like I said, I accept this because I have no other choice. There are many things that we, as human beings, cannot control. We are not meant to have control over these things, because they are, and always will be, beyond our realm of understanding. When I do understand these things, it will be because my time has come to leave this earth. I accept this fact, and I will no longer waste my days here wondering "why?" It is not my time to know the answer, and I accept that with ease.

Maybe the stage of acceptance that I have reached is not conventional, but it is real. I feel it with every ounce of my being. Most of the stages will repeat, and I accept that, too. I will still be angry sometimes. I am still grieving. I may catch myself in denial at times. All of this is normal, and I cannot punish myself for feeling the way that I do. All that I can do is accept the past, embrace the present, and prepare myself for whatever the future has in store for me.

"...Thy Kingdom come
Thy will be done
on Earth as it is in Heaven..."

Love,
Haley



"Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped away into the next room,
I am I and you are you;
Whatever we were to each other, That we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used,
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we shared together.
Let my name ever be the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant,
It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well. "
Henry Scott Holland, Canon of St. Paul's Cathedral



There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Shel Silverstein, Where The Sidewalk Ends

GRIEF.

Today, I learned the greatest lesson of them all.

The learning began last night as I pulled into the parking lot of the most beautiful church in the world. I saw our parking lot packed with cars, even though the viewing would not begin for another thirty minutes. As I got out of my car, my jaw dropped. There was a line of people that began at the front porch and went all the way to our church sign. These people were standing in the cold, hugging each other, crying, and passing out tissues. As I walked by the line, I heard numerous compliments about my dear friend, and I prepared myself to be strong and keep my emotions under control. Members of our church always go through the back door in situations like this. It reminded me of how many people, in their homes, use the back door more often than the front door. However, when we have guests in our homes, we expect them to use the front door. Of course, our close friends can use whichever door they wish. As I’ve grown to learn, some friendships are so strong and so full of love that they become family. I think that we all use the back door at the church because to many of us, it feels like home. People enjoy being at home because they can be their true selves there. People feel safe at home. People feel loved at home. Many of us have found those same comforts in Alpine Baptist Church. It just feels like home. We are more than a congregation. We are a family. We have a bond that is unbreakable, unconditional, and extremely rare. This bond was created, nurtured, and strengthened by love. The love that our church family shares is one that knows no boundaries. This love can overcome all obstacles. This love will last far longer than a lifetime, and will continue to be passed down from generation to generation. This love has become a part of who we are, both as a whole and as individuals. In the smallest, most sacred place in Brother Larry’s heart, you could find an abundance of this love. Because all of his sermons came directly from his heart, tiny pieces of this love were passed to each of us by his words of wisdom. Over the years, some people have hearts so filled with this love that their hearts have to expand in order to make room for more. This would explain the big heart phenomenon in our church. This love began in the heart of a wonderful man and his devotion to teaching about God and His word.

As I walked up the stairs to enter the fellowship hall, I took a deep breath and told myself to keep it together. However, as soon as I walked in, I saw the faces of the people who mean the most to me in the world. I saw Aunt Lou, and I immediately hugged her. The tears were streaming down my face, and I could not stop shaking. I turned around and saw Patsy, and she opened her arms to me. I sobbed on her shoulder, and she just held me. Beside Patsy was Mary Beth, who can read me like a book. Before I knew it, I was crying in her arms, too. Last in line, there was my Gail. She is the strongest person I know, and she is one of the people I hold dearest to my heart. I wept as we hugged, and I found myself wishing that I had half of the strength as she did. I know that if she could have passed on some of that strength to me, she would have done it in a heartbeat. That is the type of person that Gail is. In fact, that is the type of person that many members of our church are. These wonderful women that I’ve known for my entire life knew exactly how to give me comfort. They opened their arms and their hearts, and they stayed strong when I couldn’t. I do not know what I would have done if they had not been the first people that I saw when I arrived. As I walked to the sanctuary, the love and comfort they gave me wrapped around me like a blanket from my childhood. It kept me warm, and I felt safe.

I entered the sanctuary, and while I was hesitant, I decided that I had to have a glance in the casket, just to make sure that this was, without a doubt, real. What I saw, though, did not make me as upset as I thought it might. I took one look at the face I’ve seen so many times over the past 21 years, and I knew that the man I admired so much had left his body long before. The Brother Larry that I remember always wore a smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that touched anyone’s heart who saw it. His eyes would crinkle, and the laugh lines on his face were his most beautiful feature. He had the type of laugh that could fill a room in a matter of seconds. It was one of my favorite sounds to hear, and many times, it was like music to my ears. This is how I will always remember him.

Standing by the pew that was once occupied by Wayne Joiner was Mrs. Ann. She looked beautiful. I made my way over to her, and by the time she turned around, big salty tears covered my face. We hugged for a long time, and I realized that I had forgotten how good it was to hug her. When I think of Mrs. Ann, I remember how I admired the way she held the hymnal as we stood during church when I was younger. She did not sing the words, but there was something about the way she stood that I found to be graceful and elegant. After Samantha was born, she did begin to sing the hymns, and although she often held a baby in one arm, she still held the book in the other, just as she always had. In our modern day society, it is extremely rare to find a lady like Mrs. Ann unless it is in a book about true southern belles. She was Larry’s perfect counterpart. As we all know, he often sang much louder than the rest of the choir. Actually, most of what he did and/or said was louder than everybody else. On the other hand, Mrs. Ann rarely raises her voice. She communicates in other, more subtle ways. Her voice is soft, polite, and comforting. He often mentioned things about Mrs. Ann in his sermons, and it was obvious to anyone who knew him just how much he loved her. Sometimes, when I was younger, I would see them catch each other’s eye during a hymn or his sermon, and they would both smile. They were perfect for each other, and even as a child, I saw that. Last night, after we hugged, Mrs. Ann said, “He loved you. He was so proud of you. We’re all going to be okay.” And, as I looked her in the eyes, I saw that she really believed what she said. If I’ve learned anything over the years, it is that Mrs. Ann does not say things that she does not mean. She’s the wisest person I know, and I hope she knows how much I love her.

As I walked to the other side of the church, I saw Terry Roberson sitting with his family. He is another person that I have always admired. He is brilliant, kind, and a wonderful teacher. God gave him the gift to touch others as he teaches them, and this is exactly what he has done. When I saw him last night, I could see the pain in his eyes. I went over to him, and just as I did with all the others, I lost it as soon as he hugged me. I could feel his despair. He and Brother Larry could have easily passed as brothers. They had a special bond, a real friendship, and an understanding of each other that most people do not have. To see Terry so heartbroken made me look at him in a completely different light, and I saw strength in him that I’d never noticed before. I have never admired him more than I did last night. He is such an important part of this church and the family we’ve created inside of it, as are his parents and siblings. He always carries himself with class, and even in his darkest hour, he had a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

The last person whose shoulder I cried on last night was Neva. I can see so much of Brother Larry and Mrs. Ann in her. Like her dad, Neva has a wonderful laugh. She laughs often, and she spreads her optimism to all those around her with a smile on her face. The words she said as I hugged her sounded exactly like the advice given to me by Brother Larry when I came to him as I recovered from the death of one of my classmates. I asked her how she held it together so well, and she said, “It’s not me.” Those three words were of great comfort to me, because I felt as if somewhere along the way, she found reason to hope, laugh, and be strong. That is exactly what her dad would have done. She is also a lot like her mom. She is kind, gentle, and knows how to act like a lady. She worries about the feelings of others, and she goes out of her way to help others find comfort and peace. Like her mother, she is a fantastic teacher, and she pours her heart into her classroom and her students. Her positive attitude soothed the worries of many of the people who were there last night. I hope she knows how proud her dad would be of her.

I stayed at the visitation for over three hours. For several days, I had been unable to explain how I felt about everything. I was confused, and I did not discuss it with anybody, because I did not think I could ever describe Brother Larry and do him justice. Sometimes, people got confused when I talked about him in the past. I think they were thrown off by the description “my pastor, who is also a defense lawyer and a democrat”. Not only does that description leave off half of his many careers, but it does not explain who he was as a person. It cannot be put into words, honestly. If I even tried, I’m not sure that anybody would believe it. There are not many people around like him. He was one of a kind. Although one Larry Morris was wonderful, I’m convinced that if two Larry Morris’s existed, they could have easily conquered the world. I walked around the church for a long time, and I just looked around. All I could think about was how much I’d been missing that place. Alpine Baptist Church is my favorite place in the world, and I am who I am because of the family I have within those walls, as well as the lessons I’ve learned there.
I could not get any sort of sleep last night, so I sat up and thought. I thought about all of the faces I saw earlier that night, and how fast the years have flown by. I remembered how, as a child, I would mimic Patsy's arm movements as she directed the music. I remembered how I admired how beautiful Louanne looked as she played the piano, and it influenced me to take piano lessons for many years. I remembered being amazed as I watched Mary play the organ, and I was always proud to say that she was my great-aunt. I caught myself wishing that I could go back in time for a day or two. Our Sunday school room would be by the old kitchen, and Wayne would come and give me Hershey kisses, even though my mom told him not to. Then, I’d travel to the Christmas Eve Midnight Mass when we knocked over the memory candles and the table went up in flames. I would go to the Easter Egg Hunts, Vacation Bible School, and trips in the old church bus. The tennis courts would still be up, and the men would still have a softball team. Dr. Phil would remind me every Sunday that he was, and always will be, much cooler that I am. Aunt Lou would have the Mickey Mouse watch that played music, many times during church. The last stop on this time travel trip would be to any Sunday that we sang “Lily of the Valley”, just to hear Brother Larry sing the loud part that we all found hilarious. Oh, I’d go back in a heartbeat. I’d relive it all if I could. Because of this church, I have never had a day in my life that I didn’t feel loved.

Today, John delivered a beautiful message. I do not think anybody could have done a better job. We laughed, we cried, and we remembered a man who touched our hearts for so many years. We sang “Victory in Jesus”, I couldn’t help but cry when I heard Patsy sing. I’ve never heard her sing so beautifully. She looked like an angel. When I closed my eyes, I could almost hear Brother Larry chiming in with the rest of the congregation. As John said his closing statements, he reminded us that the sun would shine through the clouds. At that exact moment, sunlight filled the entire Sanctuary, and chills ran up my spine. I could feel his presence. I looked around, and I could see that many others were thinking the same thing as I. Brother Larry always did like to make a noticeable entrance, but none was ever as beautiful as this.

Like I said, I learned an important lesson today. Brother Larry spent his entire life loving and laughing, and all you ever really need to know is to always love and laugh.

"Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends."
John 15:13

BARGAINING.

Trying to bargain with God is ridiculous. Those who do it are already aware of the fact that no amount of bargaining is enough to change what has already happened, as well as every single thing that will ever happen in the future. The thing about bargaining is that those who do it always make sure they have a safety net. Bargainers always offer their second favorite everything. Bargaining is what people begin to do when they have no other reasons for hope. We bargain at our darkest moments, and the more we do it, the harder it becomes to see clearly. Anyone who reads this already knew these facts before I wrote them. However, even though we're aware of what it is we're doing, we still do it anyway. As humans, we crave hope in forms of glimpses and ounces, people and books, and dreams and memories. When we can't find it there, we remember that one of the hardest facts of life is the one that reminds us that we can't have it all at once. Sometimes, we are not in control. In some place, far away from here, our worldly possesions aren't worth very much at all. However, this does not stop us from attempting to bargain them all away in order to receive something that we just cannot give up and live without.

It is all very sad, really. If we made these bargains in times other than our darkest moments, they might actually be possible.

Today, I listened to one of my favorite songs over and over again. I feel music in my bones, and I soak in the lyrics. On certain days, particular songs just feel right. This one felt right today.

"Restless tonight
Cause I wasted the light
Between both these times
I drew a really thin line
It’s nothing I planned
And not that I can
But you should be mine
Across that line

[Chorus:]
If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

I promise I might
Not walk on by
Maybe next time
But not this time

Even though I know
I don’t want to know
Yeah I guess I know
I just hate how it sounds"
-"One Thing" by Finger Eleven


After a few days of fighting back tears, I know that I may not do very well when trying to keep it together tomorrow and Saturday. I'm going to let myself cry. I'm going to let myself feel human. I'm going to hurt, but I'm going to let it flow through me like rain. It brings me back to the ground, this pain, and it reminds me of all of the wonders that come when I allow my soul to just feel alive. I'd rather feel despair than nothing at all.

On we go.

ANGER.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."

I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself. I'm angry that, once again, I'm going through a list of regrets that seems too near to never ending for me to find any hope in it at all. I'm angry with the concept of change. I'm angry for having no choice other than admitting that there is absolutely nothing that I can do to make this go away. I'm angry that when I picture you, I can only picture you as a hero. I'm angry for not understanding that you, too, were a human being. I'm angry for being selfish, and wondering why I've had to go through this so many times. I'm angry that people have to leave. I'm angry that a perfect world does not exist, nor will it ever. I'm angry at myself for even being angry in the first place. See, I could never be angry with you for anything. Your heart was made of gold.

You carried our pain, always. You took a load off of the weight of our burdens. You opened our hearts and poured in messages of hope. I'm angry that somewhere along the line, we may have stopped doing those things for you.

I took a long shower earlier. After my normal shower routine, instead of getting out and drying off, I sat in the bottom of the bathtub and let water run down my entire body. I pulled my legs up to my chest, held them with my arms, and cried harder than I ever thought I could. I thought I was stronger than that, and finding out that I'm not just made me even more angry.

I thought about how badly I wanted to talk to you again. But, I have 21 years worth of your words to think back on. We talked about death, you and I, and you helped me find peace with the passing of many of my friends. Without you even being here, I feel like I already know what you would say. I'll never forget what you taught me. I'll never stop thinking that I still have so much more to learn.

I don't want to be angry. I want to find solace. That church has been my only source of peace for my entire life. It was my safe place. It was my second home for so many years, and I feel as if the majority of my childhood was spent there. You were the heart of that church, and nobody will ever be able to fill your shoes.

You're still my hero.

DENIAL.

Sometimes, when I'm upset, I like to get in my car and drive. I roll down the windows, blast the music, and feel the wind in my hair. As I sat up all night, I wanted more than anything to just hop in my car, fly down the highway, and drive away my worries. With any luck, a gust of wind could pick up my car and I could drive into the sky until I reached a place where this all made sense. I'd wake up. It would have all been a dream: the phone call, the crying, and the night drive into the sky. And, I would breathe in a sigh of relief. This was my plan. Surely, this would work.

Today, I woke up after an hour of dreamless sleep, and the nightmare was not a nightmare at all. It really happened. I can close my eyes and hear his laugh. I can open my eyes and see what a lifetime of love has done. Eyes open or closed, he's there.

I don't understand why. I hope I never do. I never want this to make sense to me. I never want to understand that kind of pain and despair. It doesn't seem real, and for that, I'm thankful. That's when it gets hard, you know? The minute you understand that it is real, there is no going back.

And, the stages begin.

New Year's Eve 2009

Protecting the King

Every single year at about this time, I write my hopes and dreams for the year that is about to begin. As I do this, I also take time to reflect on the past year. I think about what I've learned. I remember all that I've lost. I smile over each thing that I've gained. Sometimes, a sadness creeps up my spine and I find myself having a hard time letting go of the year. I realize, each year, that I've grown attached to the current times. Sometimes, I think, it's because I'm worried that the next year will not hold as much happiness as the previous year. Other times, I fear that the new year will not, in fact, bring the answers to my prayers. This time of the year is hard for me, and it always has been. Perhaps, even, it always will be. Each year has been more monumental to the building of my character than the year before it, and at some point, I'm going to have to wonder when this pattern will end. A small part of me hopes that the pattern of ongoing improvement will be endless and infinite.

I've always heard people say, "That was the best year of my life." The look in their eyes when they make this statement is undeniable and absolutely cannot be created by a person who does not truly mean what he or she is saying. But, I can say the very same thing about so many years. The funniest part of all of this is that some of my most cherished years were the ones that I described as the worst years of my life. These were the years with the most trials, the largest number of nights spent crying myself to sleep, and the most days that I wore the heavy mask of a happy person who is not truly happy at all. These were the years in which I got hurt by people that I loved. These were the years that I hurt myself. These were the years in which I failed at every single thing I attempted to do. This may seem strange to other people, but it makes perfect sense to me. In order to receive rewards in life, one must be in the right place at the right time. But, in order to appreciate these rewards, this person must have, at some point in time, been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Two people could experience an equally and seemingly boring day. To one of these people, this day would be forgotten completely, seeing as nothing good happened. To the other, it could be the best day he or she has had in an extremely long time, simply because nothing bad happened. In the same sense, some people may look at some years of my life and think that I was a failure. To others, I may look like a survivor.

2008 was a year of trials, changes, love, pain, suffering, and hard work. It was also a year filled with laughter, photographs, lessons, friendships, and risks. I had to deal with health problems this year and had to have two surgeries. But, I found a strength in myself that had been sitting in my soul, just waiting to be needed. I had my heart broken, and I broke the heart of another. But, in return, I found someone who put my heart back together. Even though my breakup with Kyle was painful, in the end, it was worth it. Russell and I began dating days before I had my first surgery, but as he took care of me during my two week recovery, I felt as if we had been together for years. We learned everything about each other during these two weeks. We stayed up and talked until the sun came up. He did every single thing he could to make me feel better. He did not have to do this, and most people would not be willing to go to those measures that early in a relationship. Russell never questioned what he was doing, though. We fell in love more quickly than I ever thought was possible, and if I had to go through it again, surgery and all, I wouldn't even think twice. It was worth it. In August, I began a semester filled with some of the hardest classes I've ever taken. I worked harder than I've ever worked before. I stayed up all night writing papers, studying for tests, and reading British Literature. I was exhausted every single day of the semester. I did not have time to travel and see my friends as much as I would have liked, because I had so much homework, reading, and sleep to catch up on. By the time midterms rolled around, my grades looked good. After midterms, I started feeling sick again. I was having terrible cramps and pains in my lower abdomen, but I was too busy to go to the doctor to have it checked out. I was piled with school work, and did not have time to worry about silly cramps. Then, I woke up one morning and could not even speak because my pain was so intense. Russell made me go to the doctor, who sent me to the hospital, where I was admitted. After days of tests, they decided to do emergency surgery. I had my appendix removed, as well as a golf sized ovarian cyst. One day after being released from the hospital, I went back to school. I was extremely behind with my work, and had one night to prepare for a speech, as well as write a paper. It was hard, and I was exhausted, but I did it. I stood up in front of my class, with my bandages and pain meds, and gave a speech. It wasn't a fantastic speech, but I got through it. Because my teacher knew that I'd just had surgery, she gave me a good grade. She could have given me an F, though, and I still would have been proud. It was one of the worst days of this year, but I'd never been more proud of myself. It was worth it. I worked hard to catch up in the four other classes, and eventually, I did. I could not drive on my medicine, so Russell had to take me everywhere. Life went on, and I recovered just as quickly as I did from the first surgery. Time for finals rolled around, and I stayed up for nights, reading and taking notes for my British Lit final, which was the hardest exam I've ever taken. I know so many poems from beginning to end. I know the life stories of these authors who lived so long ago. I learned about the stereotypical roles of the members of these societies of the past. I forgot about sleep, food, and having a social life. When I went to take this final, though, I went completely blank. I was in a panic. I bombed. However, after I turned the final in to my professor, he returned the paper that I'd written that was worth a large portion of our grade. I was already in tears, and since he is a strict grader, I was afraid to look at the back page to see my grade. When I got to my car, though, I noticed that all of the red ink that covered my paper contained words of praise and compliments. I flipped through the pages until I got to the last one, and when I saw the big A with a circle around it, I forgot all about the final that I'd just done so badly on. I put my heart into that paper, and my work was appreciated. All of the sleep I'd missed, the work I'd done, and the things I'd learned suddenly became worth it. IT WAS WORTH IT. And, that's how I feel about my entire year. Every single bad thing that happened was completely worth it. In my book, there's almost nothing better than being able to say that and really, truly, honestly mean it.

Before I wrote this, I played a game of chess online. I've been doing that a lot lately. When playing chess, one has to be patient. Each move that is made changes the game entirely. Each move is equally important. One must be able to simultaneously look at each possible response to the move he or she just made while considering what he or she will do in return to these responses. Sacrifices must be made. A chess player must decide which pieces he or she believes is most important. I think that life is a lot like chess. People say that it's a game of strategy, a game of war. There are two sides to the board. I can control every move that I make on my side, but I have abosolutely no control as to the moves made by the opposing side. I must try to set up the opposing side so that it is forced to make the moves that I desire. Isn't that what we do in life? We say certain things in the pursuit of hearing what we want to hear in response. We love others in whatever way we think will prompt them to love us in return. We do the things that we love to do in the hopes that somewhere in the world, someone will appreciate our talent, which could, in turn, open doors for us. We control ourselves in ways that let us control others without them knowing it. It's a hard concept to understand, but then again, chess is not the easiest game. Strategy equals manipulation, no matter which way a person attempts to describe it. The point of chess is to protect the king. In life, each person's deepest desire is to protect him or herself from harmful people, feelings, events, etc. In chess, the queen can move in any direction for any distance. In real life, the queen could represent the part of ourselves that, when placed in certain situations, would go to any measure to protect what is most important. The queen is bold. The queen takes risks. If the queen is ever captured, though, the game almost seems doomed. The soul is taken out of the game. In life, the soul is too precious to live without. In the end, the queen becomes more useful than the king. The queen gives hope to the game. Without hope, there is no desire. Without desire, there is no win. These same unwritten laws apply to life, too. Rooks are important in chess, too. They're pushed to the corner of the board, and often go unnoticed until they are needed. In life, our parents are the rooks. I tend to push my parents away, but I'm still quick to call on them when I need them. In chess, rooks are often used as a sacrifice piece. They come in, save the king, and then they're gone. We expect that, at some point, we will lose the rooks to the other side. It hurts the game, but it does not end it. In life, we all expect that one day, we'll lose our parents. But, they do all that they can do for us while they're here. They change our lives. Rooks change the game. Bishops are important in chess, too. They swoop across the board, often taking out as many of the bad guys as they can. In my life, Russell can be represented by the bishop. He would go across the world and back for me, but if I'm not where I'm supposed to be, then he cannot help me. If I do not protect him in return, I will lose him, too. In a game of chess, the game is not doomed when the bishops are lost. However, it becomes much harder. It feels much more like the king is working alone in a downhill battle. The queen becomes the main source of help, but without protection, it is much easier to lose the queen. In life, without Russell, it would have been much easier to lose the hope and desire that got me through this battle that we call life. In chess, knights do not have many options as to where they can go, as well as how fast they can travel. They are usually seen as disposable, and although they do help build a winning strategy, they cannot be counted on to complete significant tasks. We have knights in real life, too. They stand by us, they protect us, and they work for us. But, sometimes, they're gone before we can even realize it. Our real life knights, to me, represent the people that enter our lives, inspire us, and leave. We, at one point in time, needed them. They helped us. We never forget that they were there, but we do not lose ourselves when they are gone. Finally, in chess, there are pawns. They often get in the way. They are used as sacrifice pieces. There are many of them, and they are hardly seen as significant. However, every once in a while, they make it through the hardest part of the battle. They're there in the end. Sometimes, they make it to the other side, and they become something much larger and more powerful than we expected. These insignificant, little, useless pawns can actually save the day in the end. In real life, we have our own versions of these pawns. Sometimes, even, we are the pawns in the lives of others. Before we even notice it, these people who we never thought would make a difference in the outcomes of our lives end up saving us. Some of my "pawns" turned into my beacons of hope. They saved me in the end. They stood strong throughout the battle. For example, Russell came into my life as a classmate in a class that I didn't even want to be in. In the end, though, he ended up saving me from the thinking that I deserved the bad treatment I was receiving. He made me feel beautiful. He became the most important part of my future. He changed the game. He made the fight worth it.

In 2009, I hope to see all of the pieces as being equal. I want see a glimpse of a queen in each pawn. I want to bring the rooks closer to me. I want the king to stop hiding behind those who seem more powerful. I want to be the knight in someone else's life. I want to be a better bishop, and go across the world and back for the person that I want to protect from harm the most. This year, the queen is going to shine. The hope will not be captured, because it is going to grow until it is almost ready to burst. I will only sacrifice what is necessary to survive. Instead of working to beat the other side, I'm going to work to make my side even stronger. This year, my side of the board is going to be victorious.

However, just in case I find myself losing, I'm going to remember that the best part of chess (and life) is that no matter what happens, I can always start over. I can always choose a new approach and focus on the areas in which I lacked the most strength. Most of all, though, I hope to learn more about who I am and how my choices affect my future. I hope to make my moves wisely, and never regret what I've done. I am willing to lose some things in order to gain others. And, above all things, I'm willing to start over until I find something that works. One day, I will, and I'll appreciate it, simply because I'll know that I earned it.

I'm okay with saying goodbye to 2008. It's been the best year of my life. My New Year's Resolution is to be able to make that exact same statement this time next year with the exact same look in my eyes.

Here's to 2009!

With love,
Haley

My brain could possibly explode.

This has been an incredibly hard week, and it's only Wednesday. I have a lot of things on my mind, and I'm almost certain that my brain could explode at any given moment. Big things always happen in my life during the week of final exams, and it makes me wonder if I'm cursed with some sort of bad luck plague that only hits during the most important week of the semester. As soon as I have this thought, I'm immediately flooded with guilt. There are so many other things going on that are so much bigger than final exams, and I almost feel like God waits until this week for these things to happen in order to keep me grounded. It makes me remember what is really important in life. It makes me realize that while burying myself in studying for my British Literature exam, the world continues turning. It does not stop for me, nor does it stop for anybody else.

Someone that I care for very much is going through a rough time right now. He's facing the realization that at some point in time, we are all going to die. There is no amount of love that can stop this from happening. However, I'm seeing a huge change in him. I'm seeing this strength and courage shine in his eyes like I've never seen before. He strongly believes that there is always hope in every bad situation. I believe that, too. I believe it for so many reasons, and none of these reasons is more important that another. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that it doesn't matter WHY, HOW, or WHERE one finds reason to hope. All that truly matters is that these reasons exist everywhere, and are open and available to anyone who truly wishes to find them. Seeing him be so strong and determined has inspired me to my very core. One day, I may be put in the same position as he, and I hope that I'll be able to find strength in God exactly as he has. When I talked to Gail about it, she reminded me that in some unexplainable way, God knows when we need strength, and those who believe can find this strength through Him. He's always there, and as long as one believes in him, he or she can get through just about anything. I'm so thankful to have people like Gail in my life. I'm blessed to have someone who I can call and cry to, and they just listen and offer the best advice and comfort that they can give. I've always wondered how she got through the grief she has had to endure over the years, and while I always thought it was due to her close relationship with God, I am now positive of that. She's one of the best friends I've ever had. When I think of family, her face is one of the first that I see in my mind. She's my hero. It makes me wonder if one day, I'll be someone's hero, too.

One of my very best friends in the entire world got engaged recently, and I was the first person she called when it happened! For the longest time, she felt as if she would never find true love. One day, when she least expected it, true love found her. From this, I learned that true love can't be found. It just isn't mean to happen that way. True love must find you. She asked me to be in her wedding, and I'm beyond thrilled about it! She's a beautiful girl, on the inside as well as the outside, and I'm honored that she asked me. We've been friends for a long time, and she's helped me through many things. People always ask if we're sisters, and looking back on everything we've gone through together, I realize that in a way, we are. She's getting married at the Catholic church in Hoover, and her reception is going to be AWESOME! We're going to dance, eat, and celebrate all night. She reserved an entire floor at a hotel that isn't far from the reception site, and we're all going to continue celebrating after the reception. It's going to be a great night, and I can't wait!

So, as I sit here, buried in notes about William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Anna Laetitia Barbould, Mary Robinson, William Blake, Lord Byron, Percy Shelley, John Keats, Lord Tennyson, Robert Browning, Matthew Arnold, Joseph Conrad, James Joyce, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Christina Rossetti, T.S. Eliot, William Yeats, and other great English poets, I can't help but smile, despite all of the words about death. You see, in order to fully understand life, you must first be aware of death. It's funny how that works, isn't it? I'm reading through pages and pages of sorrowful words, and I'm grinning from ear to ear. I can't help but smile, because all of this makes me remember how much there is out there worth living for. Mitch Albom wrote, "In order to learn how to live, we must first learn how to die." I think that he must have taken British Lit, too. :)


"Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:--
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?"
- T.S. Eliot (The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock)

Pictures from Thanksgiving Break 2008

I wrote a long Thanksgiving blog, but it's on Luke's computer, and he isn't in Jacksonville. But, I'll put it up when I'm able! Hope everyone had a great week :)

Love,
Haley

my character synopsis for my presentation :)

Tomorrow, I have to give a presentation in character from a book of my choice. I chose to present the book Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy. I will be giving a synopsis in the character of Lucy Grealy. Since my audience will not know anything about the book, and most of you probably haven't read it, I decided to post this synopsis as a blog. I hope it is effective in your "getting to know" Lucy Grealy's character in this book.

My name is Lucy Grealy. When I was nine years old, I was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma, which is a rare facial bone cancer. I had surgery to remove a part of my jaw. The next few years of my life were spent in the children's ward of a hospital. I went through 3 years of chemotherapy and radiation. At a very young age, I had experienced more pain, nausea, confusion, guilt, and fear than most people do in an entire lifetime. While I was in the hospital, I was surrounded by other children who had cancer. They experienced my pain. They lost their hair, just like I did. They wondered why their own families felt uncomfotable around them, too. They understood. They did not judge. One day, I got to leave the hospital. I finally got to go home. What would normally be a day of celebration was instead a day full of disappointment. My house did not look the same way it did when I left. Things were falling apart in every imaginable sense. My once financially stable family had been ravaged by an expensive illness, and I knew that it was mine. I felt guilty for causing so much change. I felt responsible for my mother's extreme depression. I felt as if I had been forever separated from my family by cancer. I wondered if my siblings thought I looked funny without hair. When I went back to school, the other kids pointed and laughed. I didn't blame them, and I thought that it was because of my hair, or lack of it. But, the laughing continued even after the hair grew back. And, it was at this time that I had to come to terms with the fact that my face was not normal. It wasn't going to magically grow back, as my hair had. I was "ugly", and everyone who saw me knew it. The boys dared each other to ask me out, and the mothers hushed their children who said, "What is wrong with her face" when I walked by. I was only comfortable on Halloween, when it was appropriate to wear masks. I wanted to wear a mask every day, and I felt this way until I realized that we all wear masks every single day of our lives. Ideally, a face cannot tell you much about a person. You can't look at someone's face and know their talents, their hopes, their dreams, or their fears. Realistically, however, I felt as if nobody could ever love me romantically with a face like mine. I wanted so badly to be normal, while everyone else was wishing to be extraordinary. I spent 5 years of my life being treated for cancer, and the next 15 being treated for nothing more than being different. I had over 30 reconstructive surgeries before I found a face that made me look almost "normal". Do you think that being "normal" made me feel beautiful? Would I finally be able to live? Will people find out what lies behind my face? The pain in this book is real. These pages contain all of the contents from the smallest, most sacred place in my heart. This is my story.

The Audacity of HYPE

I was sitting in my British Literature class on Tuesday, November 4. I could not stop thinking about the election and its potential outcome. So, as I always do when I'm bothered, I wrote. Unfortunately, I ended up in the hospital on Tuesday and had emergency surgery on Wednesday. When I was released on Thursday, I remembered what I wrote and decided that it was time to finish it. Here it is.

Everything changes today. As a 21 year old, I should probably be excited. However, I find myself sitting in class writing about how I'm scared. Change is not something that can be avoided. Change is vital to each person and his or her happiness and satisfaction. People crave change in their individual lives constantly. As a society, we place all of our hope on upcoming changes. And, while we're doing all of this hoping and waiting, we completely fail to realize the seemingly invisible changes that are continuously happening in the background. Behind all of the debates, stickers, bickering, signs in our front yards, rumors, facebook groups, news headlines, rallies, protests, promises, the religious background of one candidate, and the POW background of the other, we find that each candidate is no more than a human being. Both were born, and there will come a day when each of these men will die. THe difference between Obama, McCain, and the rest of us is that somewhere along the way, they found themselves competing to be the president of our troubled country. And, they were both able to do this because they formed connections with people who they each knew could help financially support their campaigns. They each have groups of people who watch and critique every move they make. They are told what to wear, what to say, how to feel about specific issues that are important to voters, how to respond to each and every possible question that could be asked at any point in time, which personality trait to show the most in order to appeal to voters, which smile to flash, which promises to place emphasis on, which promises voters will forget, which states are "most important", and so on. In fact, dare I say that there are very few people who have been able to get a real glimpse of the real Obama or the real McCain. How would they dress on their own? What do they do to relax? What are their favorite movies, music genres, authors, restaurants, or alcoholic beverage? Who are their TRUE best friends, and how valuable are these friendships now that every person in America knows who both of these men are? What hides behind the faces plastered on all of the political propaganda? What values do each of these men hold inside of their hearts? Do they pray to God before they go to sleep? And, if they do pray, do they do it because God is in their hearts, or because God is in the hearts of the people who will be voting? Do they really believe what they say they believe? The truth is plain and clear to me. Both of these men are complete strangers to us, and the majority of America is completely blind to this fact. During this election, I found myself supporting one candidate simply because I was terrified of the alternative. Is that what American politics have come to? I should be forced to vote for someone who has values that are quite opposite of my own?

While I despise Obama withe every ounce of my being, let me say that there are a lot of things that I do not like about John McCain. To begin, he does not support a woman's right to choose when concerning an unwanted pregnancy and the decision to have an abortion. Instead, he promotes adoption. In fact, he and his wife adopted a child. What I do not understand is why a person can't promote the benefits of adoption while also supporting a woman's right to choose another option. While I do believe that abortion should be available to females, I believe that if the girl is under the age of 18, she should have to get parental approval. Currently, any female aged 16 or above can get an abortion without parental consent. Abortions can come with an ugly aftermath, and most young girls are not prepared for the emotional distress, guilt, and depression that often follows this decision. I also believe that there should be a law that requires females to go to a therapist for a certain amount of time after having an abortion. The other big issue that I have with the McCain campaign is his huge anti-gay marriage attitude. Are you kidding me? How can I possibly support a man who thinks that homosexuals do not deserve the same basic rights as other human beings? I strongly support the right for homosexuals to be married in ANY state, and under the same laws as heterosexuals. God made us all. The United States of America was originally meant to give each individual the right to freely practice any religion. If that were still true, my homosexual friends should be able to say, "God created me. God loves me, and I am a faithful servant to him. I am also gay. God gave me the ability to love, and I have done this. Now, in the presence of God, my friends, and my family, I want to marry the love of my life." Each person has the right to practice the religion that he or she feels is "right", but a man who believes that he was created by God and has always been gay still doesn't have the right to practice the belief that God made him that way that he is, which is gay. By denying homosexuals the right to marry in the same manner as any given heterosexual, are we saying that God makes mistakes? Do any of you honestly believe that anyone would choose to be gay? I've seen what my homosexual friends have had to go through in their lives. I've seen the way they've been taunted, teased, laughed at, been called "sinners" (as if we all aren't sinners), and most importantly, been denied the right to marry the love of their lives. This right is denied because in the Bible, it is called a sin. But, does the Bible not also say that there is no one sin greater than another? That being said, should people who lie no longer be allowed to speak? When people steal, should they no longer be allowed to use their hands? When a person becomes jealous, should his or her right to FEEL be denied, as well? If there is no one sin worse than another, why are there not stronger punishments and limitations for people who commit other sins? I just do not get it. And, there are even cases where homosexual people are denied the right to adopt a child due to their "immoral" lifestyle. So, John McCain wishes to promote adoption, but only to straight couples? Children who have no love, no support, and no will to survive are left in foster homes or likewise facilities rather than placed in loving homes in the hands of a couple who want nothing more than to be parents and happen to be homosexual? In many cases, children are placed in the homes of foster parents who are more worried about what they are going to spend their monthly government check on than the physical and emotional welfare of the child. Which option do you think the child would choose if he or she had the freedom or right to make that decision? Would they choose a loving and successful gay couple who happen to understand what it feels like to grow up much differently than "normal" people? Or, would the child choose to be tossed from foster home to foster home, constantly searching for love? It doesn't matter what the child would choose. At this point, they do not get to choose much of anything. And, this reminds me of McCain's argument against abortion. He believes that it is not fair due to the fact that the child's right to live is completely taken away. However, by denying homosexuals the right to adopt a child and give them a happy life, is the same thing not happening? In fact, when we are born, we have no choice about anything. We do not choose which genes are dominant, who our parents are, if we are gay or straight, if we'll have diabetes, if we will have Downs Syndrome, or mental retardation, a big nose, brown eyes, our gender, and etc. We choose nothing. However, mentally retarded people are allowed to get married. People with brown eyes are allowed to get married. I know a few diabetics that are married, even. Our society has accepted that somewhere between God and genetics, these things are chosen for us. We do not laugh at people with Downs Syndrome, because "they can't help it". And, they can't. However, it seems to be perfectly acceptable to laugh at a gay person. I just don't get it. If a mentally retarded person chooses to marry, we do not question the morals of this person. We just say, "(He/She) is this way for a reason. Maybe God is teaching us to be patient and learn the real meaning of unconditional love". But, when a child grows up and realizes that he or she is gay, we tell them they they are wrong. We say that God would not make them that way. And, how do we know this? Is it really moral to question God's creations and/or motives? Wow. So, those are the two big issues that I have with McCain.

Let's move on to Obama. He terrifies me. He is the worst possible thing that could happen to this country. He preaches "CHANGE". What is he changing? Is he talking about the change in his pocket? Is he talking about changing his pants? Is he talking about changing our democratic government to a socialist government? Is he talking about the change America will be ready to make (if we even still have that right) when his four years in office are over? Barack Obama said, "Should we go with Leviticus, which suggests slavery is ok and that eating shellfish is abomination? How about Deuteronomy, which suggests stoning your child if he strays from the faith? Or should we just stick to the Sermon on the Mount - a passage that is so radical that it’s doubtful that our own Defense Department would survive its application? So before we get carried away, let’s read our bibles. Folks haven’t been reading their bibles.” RADICAL? How can Obama even speak the word RADICAL without getting struck by lightening? Half of American speaks of Obama as if he is the Messiah (it pains me to even TYPE that), while the other half speaks of him as if he is the Anti-Christ. I've never seen so much interest in a candidate before. He intrigues some, and scares others. You've all heard about his background. You know of his connections with radicals such as Reverend Wright. You all saw where Fidel Castro announced his support for Barack Obama. You've read his middle name, and if it did not frighten you, it should have. You've all seen the posters being sold with Obama's face plastered on an image the body of Jesus Christ. His supporters often are just as radical as he is. Have you read his books? They speak so negatively about "the white man" and even express an admiration for Adolf Hitler and the control he had over Germany. Everyone heard him say that he was too inexperienced to run for president, and half of these people forget this statement the second he announced that he would, in fact, be running for office. Many people supported and voted for Obama because they are purely Democratic voters. They loved Bill Clinton, as did I. However, most of them failed to do their research. If they had, they would know that Obama voted against the majority of Clinton's bill proposals. He wants to have equal health care for everyone, which people of low income will benefit from. He wants to negotiate welfare reform, which people of low income will benefit from. He wants free child care facilities, which people of low income will benefit from. Do you see a pattern? He wants to rapidly end the war in Iraq, which is an incredibly dangerous decision. What have our men died for? If we end it now, all of these brave men and women would have been killed, injured, or taken away from their families for NOTHING. How can a real American support that? He preaches of peace, but represents Illinois, home of Chicago, which happens to have had more deaths in the past year than the war in Iraq has had in the past year. If he cannot control murder rates in one city, how does he plan on doing that for an entire country? In his childhood and high school years, he was called "Barry". However, when he learned that he could benefit from his African heritage, he decided to go by Barack. Like I said, I am terrified of this man. I'm scared to death of the damage he may bring to all of us with his presidency.

I've done my research. I've educated myself. And, I've come to the conclusion that either way this election went, we would not get the answers to all of our concerns. I just don't get it. This is a victory for black Americans, but is this man not just as much white as he is black? And, even with this, it is not a victory for me, as a white American. It is a horror. Is this God's plan for us? What will we learn from this? We need all of God's help that we can get. I suggest we start asking for it on January 20th, 2009, and that we do not stop until this man is out of the White House.

until next time,
Haley

Analytical Essay of "The Little Black Boy" by William Blake

My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O, my soul is white!
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereaved of light.

My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And, sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissèd me,
And, pointing to the East, began to say:

'Look at the rising sun: there God does live,
And gives His light, and gives His heat away,
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.

'And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love;
And these black bodies and this sunburnt face
Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

'For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear,
The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,
Saying, "Come out from the grove, my love and care,
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice."'

Thus did my mother say, and kissèd me,
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,

I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me.


William Blake’s “The Little Black Boy” is a poem that is narrated by a young black boy during a period of time when slavery was still legal. Many people who read this poem seem to have a problem deciding if Blake projects a view that a stereotypical black child of this time would be thought to have, or if he actually shows readers an accurate version of the child. As for myself, I absolutely do not believe that Blake had any intention of insulting or criticizing any race. The image of the little boy that I see is of one who has been brought up to believe that he is to protect the little white boy. He has been raised believing that white represents all things that are good, which is shown when the black boy insists in the second line that his soul is white. What I am seeing here is a young boy who has lived his entire life serving people who are different from him. These people are all white. While he’s grown up physically serving white people, he has been spiritually serving God. In the third line, he compares the white English child to an angel. This further proves that in this day, white was often thought to mean pure, heavenly, and good. On the other hand, black was thought to represent death and evil. Just when I was about to believe that Blake was a bit racist, I read the fourth line. This line explains that the boy feels “bereaved of light”, which means that he has been blocked from the sun. I took this to mean that he felt that his dark colored skin would prevent God from seeing him in the same way He saw the young English boy. From the very moment I read this line, I have believed that the image Blake was attempting to portray was not one that taunted a race. Instead, I believe that Blake felt very strongly against these racial stereotypes. Since this was in a time with the slavery movements were just beginning, perhaps Blake found that the best way he could contribute to the cause would be to give everyone a new insight on what it was really like to grow up as a slave. Blake’s point in presenting this certain image was to educate white Americans in the hope that they would see how unfair slavery was. I think that the reason Blake writes about the black child questioning God is to mock Christians who were supporters of slavery being legal. It seems as if Blake believed that since God created all men, then they should all be treated as equals. By having his young narrator express the belief that God would see him as being less worthy than His white believers, Blake manages to show his readers what their actions were implying about their belief in God and His word. Blake presents a connection between God and the sun, and I find it ironic that the color black is known to absorb and retain heat from sunlight, while white is known for staying cooler and reflecting sunlight. Also, Blake implies that the black boy is not bothered by the heat, and seems to be used to it. I believe Blake was implying that the black child had been a faithful servant his entire life. Because he maintained his faith in God through all of these trials and hard times, the black boy is much closer to God than the English boy.

Blake’s description of a black boy’s thoughts shows readers an image that makes fun of the stereotypical black person while also showing how he feels about this stereotype. Many readers believe that this image is too stereotypical, which often causes them to misunderstand the rest of the poem. I find that by making the black child so eager to be seen as an equal to the white boy, Blake was trying to emphasize the ridiculous idea that an entire race of God’s people could be convinced to believe that they were made by God with the purpose to serve the white race. By using a young child, Blake is able to present an innocent point of view. If he had used an adult black man, the poem would have had an angry tone rather than an honest one. It is even possible that Blake predicted that his readers would feel more sympathy for a child, even if the child was a slave. I am also aware of many stories from the slave era that describe the black women as being comforting, caring, and dedicated mothers. However, in this poem, every verb describing an action made by the mother is in past tense. This led me to believe that she had passed away, and he was simply remembering what she’d told him at some point in the past. While this does play into the comforting mother stereotype, I do not think that Blake had any negative implications or intentions.

I do not think that Blake’s use of a stereotypical black child makes this poem any less effective. Blake uses this stereotype to show readers that no matter how white people treated black people on Earth, they would be treated as equals in Heaven. It seems as if he’s making a desperate attempt to show that the young black child seems as if he would do anything in the world for God’s love. This being said, it also seems as if Blake is implying that white people believed that they deserved to go to Heaven. Clearly, he stereotyped white people, too. I think that he did this to show that stereotypes are hurtful for everyone. Blake also stereotypes God, using the well-known description of a strong and powerful God with silver hair. Also, he describes Heaven as a “golden tent”, which goes along with the popular image of a heaven filled with streets of gold. If anything, Blake’s use of stereotypes gives significance to the entire poem. Without it, it would not prove a thing. Blake understands that as a writer, one must grab everyone’s attention in order to get his/her views out there and heard. When dealing with a controversial issue, a writer must be willing to take risks. Blake took that risk, and because he did, he showed his support for the fight to abolish slavery.

Book Review for Love by Toni Morrison

Literary Analysis Book 3

Haley L. Thomas
Title: Love
Author: Toni Morrison
Publishing Company and Location: Random House/New York, New York
Copyright Date: 2003
Literary Genre: Realism
Setting: This novel is set during the 1990’s on the East American coast country, in a small town named Silk. The place where most of the story takes place in a large house on 1 Monarch Street, which was home to the three Cosey women: Heed, May, and Christine. Each of these women are related to the late Bill Cosey, who owned a very prominent hotel. The hotel is the setting of many of the flashbacks had by different characters in the book, seeing as most of the characters either worked at the hotel, or had an experience with someone who did.

Significance of the Time Period: This time period was significant because it shows readers that no matter how much time has passed, and no matter how much people may try to claim that everything is different than when they were young, nothing ever really changes. Women in the 1990’s were no more sexually promiscuous than women in any decade. However, the women of the nineties were less inclined to hide this behavior.

Plot Type: This story and its plot are both character-driven, and the story is presented to readers in a way that a mystery story would be. Instead of the mystery being “Who did it?” as it is in many mysteries, the question lies in finding out who each person is and why he/she did the things that he/she did. While the plot seems very complex throughout the book, it ends up being quite simple.

Plot Summary: This is a book about love. However, this is not a story of two lovers who have to fight to stay together. This is a book that tells stories of paternal and maternal love, love for one’s self, romantic love, jealous love, hateful love, the love of friendship, finding love, and finding out that the love that was thought to exists never really existed at all.
This novel tells the story of six women who all had different types of love for a man who owned a prominent hotel. Bill Cosey has a different role in each character’s life. He plays the part of a father, boss, lover, friend, enemy, mystery, and husband. However, it quickly becomes obvious that he is much more than that. His character seems to be the center of the entire novel, even though he is already dead during the present time of the novel.
As I turned each page, and moved from chapter to chapter, each person’s mystery began to unfold. I understood and sympathized with each character, no matter how unusual that may seem to someone who has not read this book. I learned why May went insane. I figured out what turned Heed and Christine’s childhood friendship into a relationship that sat on the thin line that separates love and hate. I learned where Junior came from, and who she really is. I found out where Christine went during her famous disappearance, and why she even left in the first place. Slowly, but with interest, I found out who L was, even though I never even learned her real name.
This novel tells the story of a family who is quietly misunderstood. Heed and Christine are the same age, and when Heed marries Christine’s grandfather (Bill Cosey) at the age of 11, they begin to fight for his attention and affection. Since he was in his fifties during the time of this marriage, there was much confusion over his love towards a girl of such a young age. There is a strong tension between the two girls, and this tension begins to involve Christine’s mother, May, who feels the need to defend her daughter. During all of this drama, L’s character plays the part of the peacemaker. And, Morrison includes a woman named Celestial, who was Mr. Cosey’s lover. There is also a woman named Vida, who considered Mr. Cosey a saint because he gave her a job at his hotel that was much better than the one she had at a cannery.
The men in the story are also significant, and we learn quite a bit about what each of them are hiding, as well. First, of course, is Mr. Cosey. At first, he seems like a man who took advantage of his power, and could have anything that he wanted. He married a young girl and never felt the need to explain why he did this. He had a lover on the side. He spent his entire life around women who wanted nothing more than to be his favorite. Mr. Cosey displayed many different forms of love throughout this novel, although none of these forms ever seemed to be enough for the person who was receiving this love. Next, we learn about Vida’s husband, Sandler, who was a good friend of Mr. Cosey’s. Sandler and Vida have a grandson named Romen, who ends up falling for Junior, a girl who is taken in by Heed to assist her in taking care of personal business.
The actual story does not lie in the plot. The plot, in all actuality, is quite simple. However, it’s in the way that the plot unfolds. This is a story about a love that is so complex that even the characters do not immediately notice its existence. There is no mystery in the plot. Instead, the mystery lies in each of the characters. The plot is simple. However, the characters are anything but that.

Point of View: This book is written in third person, and is sometimes narrated by the character L. Readers are able to see the thoughts of each character.

Tone: Morrison uses a tone that encourages readers to find a reason to be sympathetic towards each of the characters. Although it may sound strange, in the end, it is easy to understand the motives of each character. The tone of the novel is mysterious, while also being very revealing.

Diction: The dialogue in this novel perfectly captures the way I thought each character would sound if they were speaking. Some of the characters are less educated than others, and the dialogue reflects this. Even the thoughts of each character captured the essence of who that character really was, and through this, readers are allowed to understand the difference in what these people were thought to be and who they actually were.

Organization: At first, it does not seem as if this novel is organized at all. However, the flashbacks begin to make sense and seem to come at the appropriate time. The title of each chapter also happens to be the main subject of the chapter.

Readability: This is not an easy novel to read. If even one word is missed, the meaning of the entire sentence disappears. In my opinion, anyone under the age of 16 would not have the patience and depth required to fully understand this novel.

Content: This book contains mature and adult content, and for this reason, I would be very careful in who I advised to read it. It contains graphic descriptions of sexual encounters, and the significance of these scenes would be lost on a young reader.

Significance of the Title: There absolutely could not be a more appropriate title for this book. Love is what each character in the book craves the most, and understands the least.

Unique Literary Devices: Morrison uses symbolism throughout this novel. For example, she uses the idea of a silver spoon, a serpent, a trumpet, and a set of unforgettable eyes to present ideas that are not directly written in the text.

Use of Novel in the Classroom: I would only teach this novel in a college level classroom, simply because I think that it would not be appreciated by high school students. There are many layers to this book, and it takes a willing reader to uncover each layer. There is language in this novel that is significant to the story, but would probably offend the parents of a younger child. To be honest, I have seen a teacher get in trouble for teaching this book in my high school, and I can understand why parents were upset, even though personally, I would not be.

-story of a girl-

Broken girl, damaged girl,
how are you going to change the world?
Thinking fast, walking slow,
through the wind, rain, and snow.

She's leaving town, escaping pain,
and nothing will ever be the same.
What is she doing? Where will she go?
The healing girl just does not know.

She's searching for someone to show her the way
to a new starting place where she can stay.
Her heart is aching, but she's becoming strong,
and the fear she carried is now long gone.

Growing girl, wiser girl
(as rare and valued as a pearl)
slowly re-opened the doors to her heart,
and the girl's new life could finally start.

The pretty girl believes in fate,
and through this lesson she met her mate.
Before she knew it, she began to fall,
and none of the past even mattered at all.

-Haley

PS- I wrote this in class the other day. I'm no better at poetry than I've ever been, but this one has special meaning :) So, I decided to share!

I'm terrible, I know!

I finally updated my stupid livejournal account. I'm going to do better... I promise. In case you forgot, it's asmartblonde.livejournal.com :)

xoxo
hlt