I floated across this while cleaning out a drawer in
my room of many
drawers. bleh...anyhow it's a copy of an email I
wrote to my mom last
year while visiting friends in Vancouver. (side note
these friends of
mine went to an Orthodox Church there) My mom was
trying to hook me up
with this guy in food service at the hospital (where
she worked at the
time.) She emailed me with his name while I was in
BC. I replied this
way...well Elise helped a little, so I cannot take
full credit for the
sillyness.

---

Dearest Momma,

Though I am interested in just how you came upon
this information about
the young man in food service. I must tell you, I
have met my intended
here. Actually just today, at the Orthodox Church.
Once his priestly
garments are replaced with a pair of tattered
boot-cut jeans and a
nicely worn t-shirt...he will be exactly the man
I've dreamed of, even
if he is a little cross eyed, and has teeth that are
gapped slightly. I
am sure I could be quite content with him. I now see
that God had so
much more planned for this time I would spend with
Isaiah and Elise.
Conversation has been blessed with the Hoogendyks,
but nothing can
compare with the budding romance that lays before
me. I have already
purchased a lace covering that will show my respect
for his church. All
I want is to be a humble, sweet wife that can follow
him everywhere. He
finds it difficult to talk with his stuttering, but
who needs speech
when you have body language. I am counting the hours
until I see him
again. Right now I am nibbling on lettuce to keep my
figure in the
finest of conditions. I already took out my eyebrow
ring and it is
healing nicely. Alright, well...I'm going to take a
nap and pray for
dreams of Herman.
Much love to you my mother, and do not be disturbed
by my epistle of
love.

Starry eyed, and dreaming.
Johanna

---

The best part is the whole family ended up reading
it...and while they
laughed, weren't quite sure if I was jesting.
Beautiful revenge for all
the times they've teased me about such things as
boys. :) Oh...and about
the eyebrow ring, don't think I really took it out
for Herman. It got
infected from mime make up...therefore causing it to
shift in my skin.
That's why I took it out.

Thanksgiving 'twas beautiful. Till the end when Niah
cut his hair, but
we won't get into that :) Drew and Kat came in from
where they live
(near detroit :), and spent the day with us. I found
myself stepping
outside of the conversation, and just observing the
glamour of it all.
Later the Meadowcrofts joined us for dinner, this
only added to the
energy of the evening. Dinner was beautiful and when
I was at the
overflow stage I decided to reach for the salad,
balsamic dressing
complete with feta cheese. Drew so kindly offered to
hold the bowl while
I dished myself some, my mom was trying to make it
difficult for him to
help me...I guess she thought he was trying to pass
it to her so she
reached for it and he retreated. She felt the need
to try to ripp it
back from him, and they sat there struggling (all in
fun and gest).
Until finally my mom relented ( i guess they were
fighting over who got
to serve me, I bet that made Jesus happy). I had
been waiting patiently,
smiling. When they were done playing with my food, I
reached and then
drew jerked the bowl away and an entire serving of
salad landed in my
lap. I had powder blue pants on, and after slugging
him I ran to throw
my pants in the wash. I think even if the stain had
not come out, I
would've not been that upset, because everytime I
wore them I'd have a
good story to tell when people asked what happen.
But then again I fear
Drew would be known to all as the one and only
universal jerkwad. That's
just not all entirely true.
Later Robin, Kat and I took a walk in the snow. The
sky was so clear and
air so cold in my nose. Kat has this amazing laugh,
and it warmed me
right up. We talked about swimming and how amazing
it really is :) Some
people really do take it for granted. Also we
marveled at Robin's
ability to dive...she is amazing ( speak of her
including her diving,
not just her diving.) It was refreshing, and the
snow was lovely. I know
I didn't think so the day before. So as I result of
thanksgiving, I
became thankful for the things I often over look. I
did not try to force
myself into the holiday spirit, but it came. I
rather liked it that way.
I worked yesterday, and today...and just took this
afternoon to wind
down. It's been nice. I've caught several people I
haven't talked to to
in awhile...me likey and feel content. Thus the
rambling. :)

I'm so excited that I had to exclaim to someone! My
friend Sarah Marie
wrote me a letter, and she talked about this guy
named Sufjan
Stevens...she was all excited because she purchased
his new album and
discovered he was from Michigan. Well, my mom
picked up two of his
albums from the Library... I'm listening right, and
recognizing the
songs. Not because I've heard the same chord
progression elsewhere,
performed by some mainstream band...he's not that
type of artist. I
racked my brain to figure it out as I swept the
living room floor. Then
slowly the memory eeked into focus...Over The Rhine
at Calvin College
last year. Meg was sitting next to me...it was the
opening act. This
guy walked out with a worker shirt and black rimmed
glasses...I think
there was even tape on the bridge holding the specs
together. He was so
intriguing...his singing was really quiet, almost
comical...but not....
there was a serious nature to all his music. He
clapped everytime we
did with big motion and floppy wrists...without
cracking a smile. I
loved him so much...but couldn't remember his name,
and he didn't have
any merchandise at the time. So I left without any
proof that he really
existed, and didn't find him again til a year later.
Oh people....how
happy an occasion. So happy that I had to interrupt
my cleaning flurry
to tell you. Share in my joy...check out his
site...buy one of his
albums. Love him.
www.sufjan.com or
www.soundsfamilyre.com

just sitting here, waiting for the end of the day at
work...holding a
sweet little kitty...what the? How'd a cat end up
here at work? I dunno,
but she's mine for now, i shall love her, squeeze
her, and call her
george. Ahhh...actually I want to call her Armada.
Sweet calico, may you
grow to be my traveling companion :p. I'm getting
all excited for
nothing...I prolly won't to get to keep her. I know
cats can be
sometimes cold hearted, and rude...but I have a soft
spot for them. In
middle school I had no friends, we lived in a rural
area (the closet
town to us was called Burnips) and I was
homeschooled, painfully quiet.
My cat Kizzy was my best friend, she knew when I was
upset and would
come purring and rubbing affectionately. She got
creamed by a car on our
country roads...and this cat reminds me of her. I
think I'll title this
entry cheesy, just so you won't do it for me :)
blah.

Yesterday Kristin and Mark took Niah and Johanna out
for a sub...they
paid for us to celebrate Mark's birthday, which
really wasn't neccesary,
although greatly appreciated by the Bystrom kids.
You guys are the Bomb
Diggety. We really had quite the time...

I have this strange feeling of melancholy love in my
heart right now...I
think Steinbeck decribed it rather nicely in this
excerpt.

"He felt his heart smack up against his throat when
he saw Cathy sitting
in the sun, quiet, her baby growing, and a
transparency to her skin that
made him think of the angels on Sunday School cards.
Then a breeze
would move her bright hair, or she would raise her
eyes, and Adam would
swell out in his stomach with a pressure of ecstasy
that was close kin
to grief."

- East Of Eden by Steinbeck

I feel this way sometimes when I look at Isaiah,
seeing him learn new
things, and being impressed by his young developing
mind. When I see
Niah playing his guitar. When I read my mom's
thoughts typed out on a
computer screen...when I think about my dad's
patience with me. I look
at things like this, and take a deep sad sigh of
love within my soul. I
think it's a quiet realization in my spirit of the
grace my kind Jesus
refreshes me with, a constant display of His
faithfulness to me. Why
would it not cause a sweet visit with grief?

Everytime I meet someone, or hear of someone that is
vegan. I am filled
with a sense of intrigue and awe. Oh to be so
radical...I've many times
pondered the posibility of becoming a vegetarian and
then if I feel like
it moving into the deeper commitment of being vegan.
Wouldn't it be
wonderful to study up on the nutritional values of
vegetables, legumes,
and grains. Find protein in substances other than
animal muscles. To
have a healthy glow from drinking carrot juice every
morning ( I had a
friend in middle school who only ate raw vegetation,
her family juiced
carrots everyday...they always looked well bronzed
as a result.), to
enjoy as many fresh herbs in salad form as I would
like...maybe even
take on the smell of green leafed basil myself. Did
you know cilantro
gone to seed is coriander? Even stating rhetorical
questions such as the
previous, would have so much more meaning chalked up
in it if I were a
vegetable nazi. Yes!....but then again no...I fear
that since I respect
others who live this radical life style so much, if
I would in turn
become one, I'd have way too much interest invested
in myself. I do know
however, that if I continue to feel called in this
direction :) and make
it into the vegan stage I would not partake in the
tofu cheese and meat
substitutes. I see this as trying to make up for
depriving yourself, and
I would never survive the race of vegetable eaters
if I were to feel
deprived. Therefore I would find variety in the
world of unprocessed
food, and enjoy it with passion. No Tofurky for me
thanks...i do enjoy
tofu when stir fried at the mongolian grill, but
it's not molded into
any shape beside's it's own.
Time to go now.

Tonight I took a risk...Darren Stevenson would be
proud. I read two
pieces of my writing in a public place. My voice
wavered and hands
trembled...but it's done now. I really feel like I
was supposed to be
there. I kind of felt strange walking up after the
guy who just finished
rapping six pages of his thoughts, but the nerves
were good. I'm
thankful, oh so thankful that God gave me the
strength to die
tonight...die to the old lazy Johanna, and see that
bit of freedom poke
it's newborn baby head out. Though I didn't get any
publishing deals - I
experienced a release of sorts. I read this entry
from my notebook, that
I wrote in the late wee hours of morning...I had an
espresso shake the
evening prior. I promised a long time ago to post
this. So here it is.

"Claudette"
September 4, 2004

Sleeplessness comes when my body crashes hard into
the softness of my
bed. Complete exhaustion - My mind however runs
continuously, crackling
with memories like an old family film. Your smiling
face in a dank dance
studio; genuine nature conflicting with the paper
ballerina cutouts that
line the walls, behind warm up bars.
I remember the day the phone rang, a friend's voice
brought news of your
death. "Car accident, killed..." It was like losing
my footing on icy
pavement - the head cracking words rang heavily in
my ears.

I hung up and cried the entire day. Walking around
the house I stared
through swollen lids at things that laid normally in
their place.
Resented the casual manner in which they existed.
Until I noticed our
angel. The wood carved trinket given as an honoring
gift. The angel held
a lantern, symbolizing hope... now she stood turned,
her back toward me
- light hidden from from my line of vision. Water
glazed my eyes once
more.

I remember your persistence - your little frame
stands strong in my
thoughts.
Your tough sweetness - never backing down from your
convictions.
Your mexican kisses on the cheek and tight hugs like
you insisted they
should always be. You told people how much you liked
my eyebrows and how
I never plucked them too thinly. You said they were
perfect.
You greeted everyone equally with hug and kiss.

It's weird how death lingers and life squanders.
Whenever Grandma talks
about Grandpa - I who was 11 when he died, still
feel a rising flood to
my eyes...as if I were 11 again, listening to
eulogies given by aunts,
uncles, and my own parents.

The forest stands in charred ruin. I run through
embers, stirring the
grey ashes, they swirl in the wind only to float
down and rest again
atop blackened branches. I kick at the debris in
panic and despair - the
branches give and crumble. Buried beneath ash is the
tiniest show of
green. Kneeling to look closer, I blow gently at the
grey flakes. They
swirl up and away to reveal a seedling, vibrant and
green with
nutrients, sprouting up from blackness.
Life.