Two Perspectives

My Rose

Many a time, I have looked for you
And seen only masks.
Many a summer, I have walked through
Fields and searched.
Even in spring, with the world abloom,
I didn't find my rose.

Tears come so easily in loneliness.
Pain comes with time.
A single heart cannot see its chance
To right the wrong.
I miss what I have never kissed,
What I have not held.

How long does a heart long for unattained
Desires and needs?
When does love reach its own end?
Times bring change
To many points and longings. Winds
Blow time by slowly.

--Kari Yerton
02/2000

_________________________________

Wallflower

So much time--
Wasted.
So much effort--
Gone.
So many days--
Lost.

How long have I
Been looking--
Searching--
Hoping--
For that perfect fit?
My other half?

You stand in the Corner--
Watching,
Calling,
Trying to catch
My eye.

The author of this
Hole,
You know,
You hold
The answer--
My heart's need.

--Kari Yerton
02/2011

What can I say? 11 years make a big difference!

Finish Line!!

Well, we are done!

Sunday was the Graduation for the 2011 Class of Master's Commission Remix at Harvest Time.

It's been a long nine months, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything! =) I've made life-long friends and grown so much closer to God.

However, I am more than ready to move up and on with my life. Going back into a college atmosphere after 6 years out of academia was, at times, stretching and, at other times, frankly annoying! lol

But, God was good and faithful. I've truly found the answers to my questions of "Why am I doing this program?" and "Why now?"

So, we've crossed our finish line, received our diplomas, and raced out the door!

Ready for the next phase, God! Let's go!

Blood Toll

Always near me,

Waiting patiently,

You watch with

Pained eyes as

I wander on,

Never looking back,

Never noticing.

Your very blood paved

The road on which

I travel;

Your life paid

My toll.

Yet I stumble along--

In boots muddy

From my sin and

Carelessness.

Cursing You for the cracks

And ruts my

Own feet have

Created.

--Kari Yerton

09/21/2010

My So-Called Single Life

I purposely avoided posting anything on Facebook or Twitter--or here--yesterday. I didn't want to add my voice to the clamor of Valentine's Day posts. After all, there are few positive response options available to me as a single, Christian adult.

• There's the Boycott: "Singles Awareness Day" (Come on! Do you really want to call it S.A.D.? That's just pathetic.)
• Or we have Substitution: "Jesus is my valentine." (Right. No one's buying that.)
• Denial is also popular: "Just waiting on God's timing." (Yes, but you're still just waiting.)
• And of course, there's always the standby Act-Like-Nothing's-Happening: "Beautiful weather!" "Oh, look, a puppy!" "There sure are a lot of people in Wal-Mart today." (Need I say how obvious that one is?)

So, I opted out. {Now, I did celebrate...with my family. I got (and gave) cards, chocolate--even a cute balloon. And then, I babysat so my parents and my sister and brother-in-law could go on dates.} But, after watching the multitude of posts and comments ranging from the nauseatingly sentimental to the painfully bitter, I decided I would give you my true thoughts and feelings on single adulthood. (And, I do mean adulthood; if you are still under the age of 21, you have no idea what true singleness is.)

Thus, here you have the true account of how I, Kari Renee Yerton, age 30, single, Christian adult feel about being single.

1. I HATE IT!
2. I LOVE IT!
3. My whole life is spent somewhere between these two extremes.

There, I said it. That is the whole, ugly secret. How I feel about my place in life changes daily, minute by minute:

• I love being able to make decisions without needing to consult someone else.
• I detest going to bed alone each night.
• I enjoy having my own space and alone time.
• I hate eating in restaurants by myself.

And so it goes...Each day, I will have moments of "Thank God, I'm single," and "This stinks!" If I want Mexican food, I eat Mexican food. If I want to go on a road trip, off I go. But, no matter how deeply I may long for someone to eat with or talk to as I drive, I can't make that happen.

This is where I feel the Church has failed its single adults. We're taught how to be in relationships, how to choose a partner, how to parent our children; but no one tells us how to be single. We're given pat lines of "Let Jesus fill that space in you," and "You have to be whole in Him before you can offer yourself to someone else." Well, that's just awesome, but what does it mean?

We are relational beings, created in the image of a God who is in constant triune companionship. The only time God said "Oops!" during creation was when he saw man was alone. And yet, I am made to feel guilty or less of a Christian for longing for and dreaming of that companionship. My newsflash is this: I'm not needy. I'm not desperate. I'm not lacking in faith. I AM HUMAN.

My humanity cries for companionship. My humanity craves physical touch. My humanity desires emotional connection. And it is my humanity that is being overlooked and ignored.

So, how do we balance our human needs with our spiritual life?

In my opinion, my don't have to "balance" them. They are both intrinsic parts of our makeup. God has made us to need one just as much as the other. The problem arises when we focus on one to the exclusion of the other. Christians and non-Christians alike make this mistake. One side tries to build spirituality without humanity, and the other focuses on humanity without spirituality. To be healthy, we must build both sides of ourselves. Here, we strike a conundrum.

I'll follow up on this thought a little more later, but for now, just be thinking about how you/we/I have been taught to ignore or downplay our human side because it's not "spiritual" enough. My reminder to you is that Jesus' favorite name for himself was "Son of Man." I think that would be significant.

--Kari

Question

Sometimes I wonder if I am invisible.
Can you hear me? Am I real?
Is it possible I live only in me?
Maybe this is all in my imagination.
Maybe this is all a dream.

How do you know what is life?
How do you see? How do you learn?
When does the real become life lived?
How does the dream find reality?
Who can teach the skeptic to love?

Why does love always evade?
When is it real? Who does it touch?
Why can I not grasp the cord and live?
How could I drop out so easily?
Why does no one catch me before I fall?

Sometimes I wonder if I am invisible.

--Kari Yerton
09/1999

First Snow

The first snow always
Makes me homesick.
Homesick--not for home and family,
But for six and my new, blue sled.
Bright blue it was--
And weren't we a pair?
Me, in my red snowsuit,
You, in your brown coveralls--
Looking very pastorly
Sliding down the hill
In your gold sock hat.
The hat that matched the sled--
The hat that always found its way
To our lop-sided snowmen--
The hat that you're always wearing
When I remember that day--
The day we sledded--
Behind the church,
Beneath the highway,
For the last time in Ohio.

--Kari Yerton
12/2003


(My niece and nephew with my old sled)

Masquerade

Bow

Spin

Turn

One by one,

We take our places,

Twirling and bending,

Dancing around the room,

Safe behind our masks.

Dip

Reach

Step

Midnight approaches.

Slowly, we weave

Across the floor,

Moving toward discovery,

Toward You.

Stand

Sway

Twirl

Maskless,

You enter the floor,

We stare at Your beauty.

The chimes ring:

One---

Bow

--Kari Yerton

10/30/2010

New Story (Part 1)

--Part 1--

The sun was just setting as the small pickup slowly turned down the packed dirt street. A single, bald ligtbulb suspended above barely gave enough light to show the truck's chipping red paint. As headlights searched down the rows of sheet metal and plywood shacks, the five passengers grew restless.

From the front passenger seat, Dale looked over his 9-year-old daughter's head at the driver. "Are you sure it's safe down here?"

The Haitian pastor grinned back: "Oh, it's fine. Actually, I think your girls will be the first American children to visit here. I mean, I've never brought my family down here, but we'll be fine."

The four Americans glanced at each other uneasily as Dale thought to himself: "Then, why on earth, are you bringing my wife and daughters down here?"

Before he could voice his thoughts, though, they were turning down the street leading to the slum church, and the headlights were giving them other things to consider.

A crowd of people about fifty strong was gathered under one of the lightbulbs that served as streetlamps.

"Dad?" 18-year-old Lora spoke up from the back seat as she scooted toward her mom.

"They'll let us through," their driver assured them.

Sure enough, the sea of people slowly parted as the vehicle approached, then closed behind. The truck inched forwar as the crowd shifted to let it pass.

Then, someone looked in the windows.

Shouts rang out.

"Americans!"

"Money!"

Suddenly, the missionaries found themselves held hostage by a desperate mob.

--To Be Continued--