Midnight Rendezvous...

Everyone has heard of TP-ing. Most people have heard of Fork-ing. But have you ever heard of Peep-ing?

Tonight was a trip back to high school...

It all started innocently enough with my friend Christen's show. Way to go, Girl!


Afterwards, we all hung out at Philip's (thanks for the hospitality!) and laughed till our sides hurt. But what happens when people hang out until the wee hours of the morning? They tend to get crazy ideas...

We got the idea from a friend who's done it before. It's called Peep-ing. It is the Easter version of TP-ing or Fork-ing. And it truly was a trip back to high school, for when we stopped at a gas station to buy the plasticware, the guy behind the counter (who didn't look any older than us) said he remembered what it was like to be in high school. We all laughed. The youngest among us is 25!
(Due to the rain we are experiencing, we combined it with the plasticware tradition.)




But we had fun leaving a special message for our Executive Pastor and his wife:


Can you tell what it is?


PS: No names are listed to protect the (not so) innocent... ;-)

Class...

My adrenaline starts to pulse and my heart begins to pound harder and faster. And so far, all I've done is stretching. But the anticipation of what is to come energizes me. The exertion, the sweat, the pain. I feel electrified. Deep breaths; in through the nose out through the mouth. It's too early to be this worked up. We're only halfway through the warm up. Stay calm. He glances my way and my already animated heart gives an extra flutter. But no distractions are allowed. It is time to focus. Working our way down the floor, we pulverize the air with strong fluid movements. Yelling a rhythmic beat as we take the next pass. Droplets begin to chart their course down my face. I wipe them away, longing for a cool breeze or cold water to dampen the flame of heat that has washed over me. Now, the bag is in front of us, gleaming red. We move, stepping, sliding, turning until contact is made with all the force we possess. The stand tips precariously back. Then in seeming slow-motion it rights itself with a boom of thunder. On and on the storm rages. A strike of lightening, a yell of rage, the boom of thunder, the whispered breath of frustration. It moves on. To the corner I am sent, the mat squishing beneath my feet. Moving with grace and precision, the form takes shape. A turn to the left, then to the right; striking out at the imaginary foe. Very good, the master says, now close your eyes. The movements come again, this time in a swirl of darkness. As I return to the first, breathing deeply, a stripe is added to the growing rainbow of achievement. Line up! The command is barked and we rush to where it all began. We bow in reverence and gratitude. A sigh rushes across the room as we exit the small arena. Water quenches the scorching thirst that has grown over the last hour. A shrug relaxes the tense knot in my shoulders. He flashes me a smile with good tidings for the night. I suppress the giggle that wells within me as I return a shy smile. But shake my head at my own silliness as I gather my belongings and head towards my car.

My heart...

My heart is heavy.
My sword too much to bear.
Will this fight ever end?

I look to the skies
for relief and reprieve.
But my cries are unanswered.

So, on I trudge.
One foot in front of the other.
How long must I go on?

I long for peace.
I long for joy.
My Love, please carry me.