Thursday, November 17, 2011

Among The Rubble

I found this among some of my older drafts and I thought I'd share. It's nothing too amazing, and frankly I wish I could change some stuff with it, but I'm trying to get back in the habit of posting and since I don't really feel like writing I will use this. Hope you like :)

A seasons time has come and gone. The summer heat has turned an autumns rain, the warming ocean waves have turned a frigid tide, blooming buds have become fallen leaves; relationships have changed, passions have turned, a love has ended with the warm breeze it rode in on; it left on a whim and ruminated in a hurricane. But before long the changing weather calmed and the waters barely made a stir; people turned a blind eye and soon forgot. Tears have dried, a heart has healed. Over the horizon is nothing but a memory and beyond the memory is nothing but another season to watch the weathering changes as the heart sits on the shore waiting for the storm.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Have you heard? Will you listen?

The souls like leaves are falling, shadowed by the lights on the street, burning under the stars and hypnotized by the moon. Howling a yawn they shout to the Lord, "catch me!" but it's too late, theyre already gone, and the Lord our God lowers his eyes to hide his tears. Before the light of the morning how many will fall, before the dawning of the sun how many will see the fire? Feel the flame? Suffer the pain? Because we turned a blind eye? Because the monster we heard sounded bigger than we thought, than we knew it truely was? Because we didn't feel that freedom, salvation, grace, and love was important enough to share? Because we didn't think that they could hear us, that they wouldn't understand? But you understood. You heard just fine. You took his gift and praised his glory, but what if no one thought you would? How far like leaves would you have fallen into the flame? For the glory of God I praise and sing, and tell the world fore I am called....fore this time I will listen, fore this time I have heard.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

I Am Woman, Hear Me Cry.

I go through these phases where I'm completely in love and infatuated with myself and then I have these days when all I do is look in a mirror and start crying. Jaime put it perfectly once saying, "what men don't understand about women is that we can love ourselfs one day and hate ourselves the next". If that isn't the most true statement I don't know what is. To love ones self one day and hate ones self the life in a nutshell. I cried last week after just catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror and then in that same week I felt like the top of the world because of a pair of earrings and a good hair day. I am a beautiful young women (most days) and love myself to the fullest (somedays), and if I think really really hard about it, I wouldn't trade myself for the world.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

A Letter To A Friend.

If only for a moment, I could lift up your pain and take the world off your shoulders. If only for a moment, I could remove your veil and let all peace from God fall over you. If only for a moment, you wouldn't feel hurt, pain, or sorrow. If only for a moment you could look into the future, strip down the wall paper of time and eternity, and incrusted in your walls you'd see an everlasting promise fulfilled in every second and minute and hour of your life. If only for a moment, you could talk to God and his voice would call out your redemption for all your heart to hear. If only for a moment, I could give you all that your heart desire. If only for a moment, I could show you the beauty of your own smile. If only for a moment, you could feel the laughter of your own jokes. If only for a moment, you could stand where I stand and see you as I do. If only for a moment, you would know that on any given day you are the most wonderful you that has ever walked these roads. If only for a moment, I could tell you that I love you. And if only for a moment, you would know that I care.

Als, you know I love you; I'll see in what will be only a moment.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

The Redeemed.

Have you forgotten what salvation tastes like? What grace on your tongue feels like? Have you forgotten how heavy the burdens on your shoulders really were before they were lifted from you? Because salvation is still as sweet as when you first tried it. Nothing has changed and it only gets better over time. Salvation lingers over you, reminding you, days and weeks and months and years after, of the good God we serve. It hums lullabys at you while you sleep, lingers in your ears and rests upon the lashes about your eyes. The mercy of God scratches down deep beneath the service, digging out your imperfections with healing hands. Your lungs are opened and filled as if they have never tasted the sweetness of air, and your eyes are clear behind your misting tears. Your heart sighs with relief as the chains of iniquity that bound it are broken. You shake lifeless limbs with joy and content as they place over themselves the armor of God. The touch of the word of God against your fingertips feels like the refreshing cold of the evening tide. You sway your hand in it as the water crashes up against you and you dig further and further, not knowing where your hand might end up. Further along, salvation touches your soul. It's not something physical or something emotional, but in the hands of God abides your soul, and in his warmth comes his peace, and in his peace lies his salvation.
Incase you've forgotten, that is the salvation you have. Now spread it, so all may know the God that has brought his people out of the bondage of sin and death, and all may know what it truely means to be called The Redeemed.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

The Perfect Pair.

There are a lot of people in this world; the sinners, the saved, the misguided, the false prophets, the holy, the righteous, the proud, the humble, the prejudice, racist, judgemental, the lost, the searching, the remorseful, the sorrowful, the guilty, the shamed, the hurt, the abused, the joyful, the triumphant- all of these are human. They are so different, yet so similar. No matter how much we hate to admit it, there are strands of all these characters sown into our chests, some colors more prominent than others, but all woven together to create the living beings we are today. We are the beings that talk and walk and work and live on the dry and wet lands of this little planet. We form relationships, we make bonds, we start feuds, we compromise, and apologize. But even in a sorry, a lingering guilt resides, even behind an "I love you" is a tied rope of restraint, even in a goodbye lies a refreshing and illuminating wind of relief. For some these human strings can bring demise, but for others, these strings quilt themselves together to create the most perfect pair of beings known to man- Christ and his Bride; holy and forgiven; now we have become a righteous people.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Spark of Thoughts

To think, to breathe, to walk, talk, sit, stand, shake hands, hold hands, kiss, open a car door, pick up a fork, write a symphony, play hopscotch, pick daisy's or lily's or tullips or pansies, learn to drive a pick-up truck, sing off key, fold laundry, yawn, stand at the top of the Empier State Building, cry, dance in a dimly lit living room, make something, paint something, write something, act on broadway, where soft socks, peak through bent metal blinds, swing feet from over an old wooden dock, sleep in the bathtub, attend a wedding, catch the bouquet, laugh softly, laugh loudly, hang clothes over closet doors, sleep on a water bed, send a letter, marry the boy you love.

A random list of things that are sometimes in my head, sometimes not, sometimes away on vacation, sometimes thought of while writing a blog, and sometimes in a picture of the person who makes your world spin a little faster everyday.

Friday, May 20, 2011

All About A 6'4 Towering Piece of Perfect.

I tried to duck away shyly and pass by these feelings without a second thought, but with the third and forth thoughts my feelings grew stronger and before long I didnt wanna duck away shyly anymore but rather stare head on into the dark brown eyes that stood before me.
Like the moon adorns the sun in the early morning, I catch myself peeking around corners and over church rows to adorn myself; but am stopped instantly by his already adorning eyes.
My hands shook last night, my foot tapped restlessly, and my stomach churned with anticipation, but just across from me in the white plastic chair, sat the most relaxed thing in the world. He'd fiddle with his hands, talk about the color of my toe nails, and tell me over and over again to Calm Down!, and eventually I did- till pastors door opened and he walked alone into the little white office and left me to wait even longer.
But isn't wasn't too long that he came back out, flushed but still calm. My heart leapt, my palms sweat, my words jumbled over his, tumbling tumbling tumbling, till we walked out and into the cool of the night and he told me- pastor approved! I screamed! then hit him! I don't know why i did, but I hit him, right on the arm...with my bible! Ha! I didn't know how to react, my emotions were going crazy. My lungs felt empty no matter how many breaths I'd take, and he just stood there, hands in his pockets, smiling at me. The moon shone a little brighter that night behind his smile, and my heart beat a little faster with every word he said.
Were waiting! And pastors okay with it! It's exactly the same thing we discussed last week, but this time pastor knows and he's okay with it! To think that pastor would be okay with a decision that we've made; how lucky are we?!
God is so good, he really is. He has helped us so much and we'd be nothing without him, but through him, we're not nothing, we're the possibility of something, and that's more than enough for me.

This man named Jacob Pacheco, he is surely a man after Gods own heart, and through God, he got mine too.
-Kaylee Johnson :]

Thursday, May 12, 2011

If Love Was But A Love.

If love was but a love and a heart only a heart then a kiss would be nothing but a touch and touch nothing but a look. That look would be nothing but a glance and that glance would never be a stare. But if that glance fought adversity and grew into a feeling it could someday become a stare, and that stare could become a talk and that talk could become a conversation. Conversations would then bud a friendship and that friendship would blossom into adoration and before long, between the glance and a feeling, would come a love. Deeply hidden in a whisper, that love would mold into a ring and that ring would bring along a kiss and a touch and those hearts that were only hearts, would be one. Completely and irrevocably one, together, hand in hand, whisper in whisper, beat in beat, till the touch becomes cold, and the hearts stand still, the whisper not even a breath and that love could be found in the rings on the hands of the ones whose love was only but a love.

Kaylee's been a little distracted latley...can you tell?

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Little Drummer Girl.

So kaylee can now say she is officially a drummer! With two lessons tucked under her belt she is confident this is where she wants to be; behind the dusty black and silver and gold drum set, seated on the small wooden throne banging her little heart out.
It was like nothing I've ever done and according to my brilliant teachers, I did...great! I was so nervous leading up to it, poor Jacob had to hear me rant on and on for weeks about how unsure I was but then sitting there, two warn-out drum sticks in hand, my mind all fell into place and I knew I wanted to do this. I learned a simple beat, following Jacob as he moved empty hands and peddleless feet from across the drums; "one two three" I'd count off, then miss a beat, "oh wait, start over, okay, one two three" and before long I could keep a beat, do a roll, add a beat, and even make a transfer without hitting that stupid stupid snare! (you can see where I had some issue).
Watching Grandma Marlane behind the drums made the whole day worth while though, "no no no" she insisted but watching as me and Jacob switched off playing, she couldn't resist and jumped right in. It was the most natural thing I had ever seen her do, balancing the sticks between her thumb and palm, leading the drums into a war with sound; and believe me, she won, taking down sounds army with the most beautiful rhythm and motion one has ever seen or heard. I loved sitting on that throne, a princess seated behind her royal court. It was something I can't wait to do over and over again.
Just as we finished practice, tossing my sticks back into the pile on the floor, grandma turned to me and said "you are officially my adopted granddaughter" and that's when learning how to play drums gained a whole new meaning.

Friday, April 29, 2011

I think that I think about stuff too often. I think about too much, too much of the time. I think of things while I should be thinking of others and think when I shouldn't be thinking at all. I over think too many areas of my life and think too little of others.
I think of Jesus, the God in the flesh, the Lord, the Alpha and Omega, and remind myself that he too is thinking of me, contending for me, praying for me as Aly reminded me. God does not wish failure for me, does not hold me back from success without good cause, does not think too little of me, but is rather wanting the world for me. For me, he thinks highly. For me he thinks fondly. For me he thinks, and his thoughts alone are enough to get me through a long sleepless night, a long slumbersome day, or one long good morning!
Good morning!
-Toby K.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Post-Noc Shift.

My eyes feel heavy as if cinder blocks sit along my eye brows, and my skin feels thick as if laid with bags of moss, but the mornings air reminds my lungs how much they love the taste of honeysuckle and cherry-blossom. Long leafy tree-branches reach out over the roads, shadowing the sun that has now begun to rise. My feet clap against the pavement, clic clic clic, my car keys clang between my fingers, and my hair, still damp and scented of tea-tree oil, hangs over my shoulders brushing my neck as I walk. It is still too early to here the hum of bustling cars or the laughter from kids marching in groups of threes or fours along yellow signed school zones; it is still too early to go to the store for milk or pick and poke and prod fresh produce at the morning market; too early to mow the lawn or vacuum the floors, too early to pick up a coffee or get my hair dyed. But the clock lands on the six and as I walk across the cold pavent, clic clic clic, I listen out as the bird chirps' fill the fog and know for someone this day has only begun.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Life As I Know It.

     My stuff is being sorted into boxes, those boxes are being sorted into leave or keep piles, those boxes that say keep are my life as I know it. This room, it's walls are becoming bare and white again. My cat walks in wide eyed as he stares at the different picture this room now paints. He paws at the corners of the cardboard and sniffs the floor where things once sat.
     My parents are losing a daughter, sooner than expected. This was never their plan, this was never mine, but here it is. It is here in these boxes, it is here in the little brown house with the little white swing, it is here in the rain outside my window, in the breaking of my heart. I often wonder if I made the wrong choice, if I should of listened to my sister, if I should of gone to college, if I should of just stayed here in my comfort...but it's done, the decisions made, the key has been passed into my palm and in a few short days this will be the end of life as I know it, and my new life will begin.
  Tonight was the first time I realized that, and tonight was the first time I cried about it.
-Toby K.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

If I Were A Great Writer...

Take me down down down, down to the rivers and boats. Take me down down down, down beneath the lands. Take me far and beyond through the valleys, through the pass. Bury me down low with waters and crystal sands. Roll me through the honey comb and brush it in my hair; cover me with sunflower seeds and grow me any where. Take me down down down, down to golden shore. Take me down down down, down past the whispy hollows. Take me down to where the meadows clear, and open me up wide; spill out my soul in the sun light and beckon it to shine.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Words That Flow.

Tuesday March 15th 2011 at approximatley 8:15pm, Kaylee Gemm Johnson recieved her first word from Pastor Steve Pennick.

I knew it was going to happen. I sat at the altar, legs crossed, playing with the buckle on my leather heals, periodically glancing at Pastor as he moved through out the crowd giving words and leading prayers, and I just knew. He moved past me going to Rigo and then moved passed me again towering over a shockingly silent Daniel, and then paused. I could see his slow footsteps out of the corner of my eye as he marched towards me. What was going through his head? How long did he have my word in there? Did he know what he was going to say or did it all come in that moment, the moment he stood above me and said "I'd like to pray for you sister". I couldn't breathe at that moment. He began to tell me about a scripture in Proverbs 13 (I think) and about the words I speak. So much was going on in my head. I didn't know if I should cry or laugh hysterically with emotion. Afterwards Jaime ran up to me, "Ha! I knew you'd get one." She was right all along, she knew I would no matter how many times I rejected them.
So many times I've seen words given but I never wanted one, never ever ever. I used to pray not to get one. And then tonight during prayer before service started, I prayed to God saying, "If you want me to have a word, I'll take it- I'm ready". And I was, so ready.
Now I just need to figure out what to do with it....
-Toby K.

Monday, March 14, 2011

What Great Power It Has.

I've written and deleted a million blogs in the last couple of weeks, I've written songs and rewritten songs, I've helped edit essays and even thought up some slightly original pieces of imagination...but where is that all now? It's back with my other forgotten thoughts, reminiscing with my childhood birthdays and every first day of school since kindergarden to the day I walked down the green with my red cap and gown, their throwing a game of catch with the little girl on a tee-ball team in small town Minnesota, playing twenty questions in the back seat on another sixteen hour drive for another move across little america; those little writings are lost in the collection of journals under my bed, missing beneath the paintings and books and articles and miscellaneous music videos and empty toothpaste tubes, knots of blonde curls strung through distracted far off fingers, and every complicated piece of simple me. They got misplaced between work and weddings and conference and revivals and skit and concert scenes and new songs and puppet team and Tuesday morning coffees and sleep and life. Those little things got imbetween me and writing, my second love. That's a pretty big deal for us...we'll need more remedy than a single blog to mend this gapping hole life's created; were gonna need some slow time, when the wind moves soft and we can just be us, simple us.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Set Fire To The Rain.

This is me dancing in white, circling and circling around and round till the wild flowers dizzy and faint. This is me laying chin deep in a porcelin tub, surrounded by lit candles and creamy drapes, the scent of lavender dripping from my wet finger tips as they hang over the glossy edge. This is me on a floral couch, legs crossed, toes tapping to the beats that quietly take over the room, outside the window is green acreage as far as the eye can see. This is me on the streets of the city, heels clicking rhythms behind me, the moon radiating heat above me, my hair skips beats on my shoulders, the night passes by like the car lights from the road. This is me in a maroon cushioned chair, fans blowing on my cheeks, thin white leather bound pages lightly russle in my lap and the ring on my finger slips to my knuckle, as I adjust it I think back on our memories lullaby. This is me with a whole lot more of me further down the road...
-Toby K.

Monday, February 14, 2011

My Latest Obsession.

I've watched these two videos, what seems like, a million times in the last two days. Cried and cried and cried. This little girl is so amazing, so so so amazing. I'm not sure what more there is to say about her, you'll just have to watch.

Get the tissues ready for this one, believe me, you'll want them.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Little Chunk Munsters.

I've been looking around latley. Looking at my friends all getting married and having babies, or if they already have babies, wanting more. I look at all them and want that too. Why can't I just look at someone and just know...know that we're meant to be together forever and ever- "I do". But I know it will never come that easy, I do have some realism left in me. I just look around at these chubby faced chunks that bounce on the knees of stray teenagers and wonder about the little chuncks I will have to bounce around, or will I even have any for that matter? I pray all the time, about my life, about a lot of things.
I pray for my husband, that if he's not saved, he'd get saved quick and that if he is already saved, that God will just bless him and guide him in everything he does. I pray for my children, that I would be equipped to raise them, instill in them the word of God, that they would grow strong and live only in the will of God. I pray that I will guide them well. I pray for our marriage to be stable, for my family to be strong. I pray for these things all the time.
Then I remember- I'm so young! I'll be out of the house before I turn 19 and I'm barely keeping my job schedule on track. I have an almost non-exsistant savings account and I don't even have a car. I'll be living on my own in less then two months! I think I have enough on my plate, why would I want to throw a husband into that equation?- no answer for that one. Maybe in a few years when my life is a little more sorted. For now I'll bounce those little chunks on my knee and thank God that I can hand them back to their parents at the end of the day.
-Toby K.

Friday, February 11, 2011

The Oxymorones!

We are The Oxymorones. We're just about the coolest most awesome skit team you've seen this side of Heaven.
I love us.
I love that we fight through a majority of all the things we do. I love that we laugh through it all. I love that we've all fallen in love with the little pieces of wood and nails and carpet that create our stage. That we all know and appreciate the rush and excitment that happens right before the curtain opens. That we dance and jump and sing outreageously loud back stage as the band plays beside us. I love that without God we'd be nothing, but with God, we've been able to move on the lives of sinners, change the minds of the rebelious, focus the hearts of the wandering. We've silenced a packed room and uproared the house with laughter. 
We've moved on this little city and have challenged others far beyond our four walls.
Skit has creeped and crawled its way into each of our lives, welcomed or not, and has made home in our hearts.
It just feels like home.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

One Period.

Latley I purse my lips a lot, tilt my head to one side when I'm listening or thinking, (or thinking while I should be listening), sing in my tongues, listen to sad songs on purpose, draw still-lifes at work, clean my house a bit too much, wear sweatshirts and grey ankle boots often, stare into the sun a little too long, take pictures on the side's of roads, forget my words, think about this up and coming November, think about the summer time and the time I will not be able to spend in Prescott, think about moon hanging down low over the hills surrounding us, plump and full dripping out stars like juice from it's busting seams; I think of my family of blood not shared, their compassion and ever watchful eyes, their comfort and grace towards my ever failing flesh, I think of their hearts full of fire illuminating bright like a distant torch signaling the oncoming battle- the battle they have been fighting before my time had began; I think of the ones I will miss if I were ever to leave, the ones I would cry over, the ones I would call without second thought; I wonder about the years close to come, falling onto eachother as they pile in a line before me, dauntingly and silent they sit waiting- forever waiting; I rehearse scripture in my mind, stare into the faces of stangers I pass through a wet mist of the fog as we walk the cold and murky streets, read their hearts as they pass, asking in my heart if they were alike me, wondering if they were waiting on the King above all kings, or if in their heart was a sufferage, a weight, a dark and sinister power that grip tight, sufficating all it's love letting it die and exude slow and painful...if their hearts were not alike mine; these things I think of so often, perform so often, experience so often, and so often I wonder how many times a day I say the word "I" instead of the word "Him".
-Toby K.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

"If you like your ministry, then you must not be minisitering"...

      So lets give some updates shall we? Right now we are in revival with Alvin Smith, this radical-contagious-soulful-singer-preacher type. He's amazing! And Black! He literally sings throughout the entire sermon and during praise and worship he sings so loud from behind the song leader that you can hear him even into the 5th and 6th rows. During the sermons I find myself lurched forward in my seat digging my elbows into my knees as if getting any closer could make the annointing any stronger...He's practically the definition of supernatural.
       Anyways. About two or three weeks ago Ashley invitied these two girls out (I think), but they've been coming ever since. They're 14 and 10. They come to the concerts and atleast every night service. They even came to two outreaches and LOVE IT. They are so into everything, love God and aren't ashamed. Now granted they are young and defentley New Convert status so they have a lot to learn but they are defentley open to letting God use them. They have brought up to 5 visitors at one time to the concerts, and bring friends to church almost everytime. Jaime and Ash say that the girls have taken a liking to me, and I am defentley starting to see that. They practically flock me. I felt like a mother duck the other night, after service, the girls followed me single file (literally) throughout the entire church until I finally said "Okay, we're leaving, get your things".
        The first outreach they came to, I felt so bad---it was pouring down rain, and by pouring I mean rain was coming down in the droves. We were all soaked by the end of it, but the girls stuck through. The youngest, Lisa, was even asking why we don't do this in more public places, like pools, where we could just preach and sing and stuff. We assured her in the summer we do that much more often because the weather actually permits. Lisa is even anxious for ministry. She was itching to ask me about joining drama and is well determined to join Untold Stories, but she hasn't quite brought that one up to Ash or Jaime yet- Ha! You should of seen the look on her face when we broke it to her that she has to be coming consecutively for atleast six months to join ministry. She was so disappointed and talks about it all the time, about how she cannot wait for these six months to pass. I just laugh and assure her that they will, "believe me kid, they will, faster than you know".
      But a sermon by Pastor Smith defentley dealt with me concerning these kids. I really like them a lot, they are funny and nice- but they're so young. And yes I know that I am practically a bottle of uncontained energy and can usually be confused with a prepubescent teenager, but I am ubdoubtedly older. It has defentley taken a lot for me to remain nice---all the time. That dosen't sound so hard when said, but to actually do that is so difficult. I can't just act nonchalant around them like I do with my friends, I have to maintain this constant level of - happy. But Pastor Smith was talking about the powers of the Holy Spirit, and he said "it gives us the ability to deal with people"...and that is true! I've defenetley been asking for major grace towards these kids because I didn't realize before how hard it truely is to be a disciple in this sense of the word.
      I like it though, it's good for me. I love ministry, but so often in ministry I simply must do things I don't want to do...and this just happens to be one of those instances.
-Toby K.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

For The Eyes of Women Only.

So, this is defentley a more personal Toby K. blog, but it's been on my mind so I thought I'd share it. Luckily most of my followers are women, which is good, but if you're not a woman and reading this, I would ask that you please skip this blog and read onto one of the many other blog posts that I have in assorted blog library I have listed on this page.
So- (back story to the actual story), a few weeks ago I was with some of my wonderful girlfriends, Hilah and Septembre (and later on Nikki), and we were at Washington Square Mall doing some (last-minute) christmas shopping. Having Hilah on board we were somehow bound to wind up in Victoria Secret, where Septembre moseyed through racks and Hilah ping-ponged herself through the store lavishing herself with the rich fabrics and the sleek designs; I, on the other hand,- awkwardly stood to the side, following a few steps behind the girls, keeping my head down, fiddling with my fingers or strings from my clothes, doing anything to shoo away the most uncomfortable knot that sat in the pit of my stomach.
I'm twice the size of these girls, I've never even considered going into Victoria Secret let alone actually looking at their products. But soon enough Hilah was leading me around the store blindly asking me non-sensical questions like "Have you tried this bra?" "Have you ever worn this style panty?" etc etc. I answered the only way I had ever answered those kind of questions before, "no".
"What do you mean?" Hilah pressed (as Hilah does).
"I've never owned anything like this before", I shyly ducked behind a display case.
"Well, then we'll just have to get you sized",- and that's where it began, and then ended twenty minutes later with me leaving the store with my very first Victoria Secret bra and my very first pair of lace panties....I didn't quite know what to do with myself.
I learned to love them though- feeling like a "women", (what ever that means) when I wore them.
But I was still the same, insecure, unsure, and self-concious, plus-size girl I had been all the time before. It's hard to hide your size when you're sitting in a girls row of size 4-or-less girls; you're kind of the weed in a sea of wildflowers, and a simple set of undergarments wasn't going to change that.
But the other night, in the midst of usual Saturday Night Scene chaos, all of which includes me dashing through the back doors of the MacStage, grabbing my dress and leggings that I was supposed to have on in less then a song, and making the almost impossible wardrobe change in the moldy cramped bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the yellowing mirror that hung above the glass sink, and I saw someone I don't remember seeing before. That day I happened to wear my matching bra and panties, and while pulling and tossing clothes to and from the counter, off and then on my body, I saw- the full hips of a woman, a waist not depicted by a size based on media, strong arms molded by the industrious world, hands beautifully calloused from years of pencil pushing, thighs that were thick and full of elegance, a face full in bloom with confidence and spotless with enchantment- I saw her there in the mirror for just that second- a glimpse into someone that was hiding behind this bulky ill fitted form. She might of been there for a moment, or maybe I made her up in my imagination, but I look back on her memory and remind myself often that "Charm is decietful, and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the Lord shall be praised" (Prov 31:30), and just hope that everyone remembers that when they see me enter the room.
Thanks for letting me share.
-Kaylee Gemm Johnson.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Mid-day With Septembre in Mid-January.

             I don't really know what to put down. I know that there is a lot I could say, a lot that I could conjure up in my little mind and plaster onto this digital paper but I'm not sure what I want to think up right now. I could talk about my day today......
         This day could of been a lone-some Monday cooped up in the house but was instead spent traipsing about Third Street with my dearest Septembre. We spent much too long getting ready at her house, but that also included me meeting her very hippie room-mate Josie whose laugh still cracks me up; that led to us eating lunch at the Sage then going into different shops on Third trying to hang a poster for our up and coming Revival with Alvin Smith (...and for some reason I'm having the hardest time getting his name right; it's so bad I think I invited about three people out to a revival with "Alan Smith", not Alvin...but whose gonna remember?), then we finally got it hung up on the FRONT door of an active Third Street shop and to say the least I was very excited especially since we'd been told by other places that they wouldn't even hang it because of "religious affiliation, blah blah blah"; anyways, shortly after we got some cookies, shared them with Jess, and then spent the rest of the afternoon in Cornerstone playing scrabble and harmonizing to praise and worship songs at our little nook table. It was the best afternoon I've had in a while. I know we both needed this afternoon, and it defentley made itself something worth remembering.
         There's defentley more on my mind, completley aside from my afternoon, but I think that's for a later blog.
Farewell Bloggers.
-Toby K.

Friday, January 14, 2011

The Michael Layman Story.....

So this morning I did some writing at work. I was thinking of writing a few pages everyday and making it a blog story written through out a series of blogs. But it wouldn't take up every Toby K. blog post of course, I'd write other stuff too, it could be like a weekly post or something. I'm not sure though. I read it to my co-worker and she really liked it....but she's not my blog followers, you are, so here's the trial. Give me a yay or nay and it dosen't mather either way (Ha! Rhymes.), but really I am curious to what you think----

    Michael Layman’s eyes shot open the morning of March 8th and stared blankly at the white wash ceiling glimmering from the rays of the morning sun. It was Tuesday and Michael knew his parents would be returning from their Caribbean vacation any minute, trotting in with flowered shirts and newly tanned bodies.
     It seemed that just yesterday they were saying their goodbyes at the small American Airlines check in counter, his mother sobbing into her sleeves and his father too busy checking the bags.
       “-and don’t forget to feed the fish, and remember my plants, and, and-“, his mother, Carolynn, said through her sniffles, “and one last hug, please”.
     “Mom, this is like our sixth hug in the last hour,” Michael said.
     “You won’t see your mother for two weeks and you won’t even do her the favor of giving her a hug”, Carolynn said lifting a sagging sleeve to her trembling lips.
      “Mom, that’s not what I mean”, said Michael leaning in for a hug. Michael towered over his mother matching 5’11 to her 5’ foot frame and still wisps of her thick curly Italian hair managed to itch his nose. Michael waved away the tickling sensation as Carolynn pulled back now starring at Michael’s father.
     “John, please give your son a hug goodbye,” she said.
     “What was that, Hun?” John said, still looking down at the machine ejecting the two plane tickets to Miami’s International Airport.
      “A hug, John, for your son”, Carolynn urged.
       “Oh, yeah, love you too son”, said an unaware John, waving a hand over his bent shoulder as he made the final adjustments to his bags.
       Michael chuckled as he thought back, but too soon refocused on the current day, slowly coming to terms with the fact that he would no longer have the house to himself. The past two weeks were spent lounging on the plush couches, flipping through the pages of his mother’s Home and Garden magazines, and eating nothing but Cheerio’s and Top Roman.
     “John, can you please focus and help me get these suitcases from the trunk?” Michael heard his mother’s plea from outside his open window. Michael sighed, sat up in his bed, and peeked over his right shoulder, seeing through his window, where down on the street his parents attempted to carry in their entire set of luggage at once. “John, please hurry, I want to see Michael; I’m sure he’s missed us.” Said Carolynn, following John step by step up the cement drive way.
     “Carol Honey, I can only go so fast carrying three suitcases and a forty pound makeup bag”, John continued up the drive.
     “John Layman, don’t be so ridiculous”, Carolynn huffed inching closer and closer to John’s heels.
      Michael watched his parent’s slow ascension towards the house and then disappear under the front porch awning.
     “John, really, how hard is it to find the key, on a key-ring of only three keys?!” Carolynn probed and leaned her chin around the side of John’s shoulder.
      Michael, still sitting in his bed, reached his arm down to the floor inching his fingers across the matted carpet until he felt the fabric of his favorite tee-shirt. The fabric once black, had greened over time and a large hole found home under the rim of its collar. The design on the front, he remembered, had been a dragon winding it’s tale around the branches of an apple tree, blowing fire down the left side of the shirt; now the design had warn and peeled, leaving only blotches of color sporadically throughout the middle. He heard the front door open and the immediate shout of his mother attempting to disguise her excitement and failing in short order, “Michael, we’re home!”
      Michael sighed as he took his time turning his shirt inside out.
      “Michael! We’re home!” the words echoed as Carolynn searched through the different rooms of the house.
      “He’s probably upstairs in his room sleeping” John mumbled without looking up from where he stood in the kitchen, hovering over two weeks of newspaper Sport sections.
      “You’re probably right”, Carolynn said as she marched past the kitchen towards the stairs, “Michael. We’re home!”
       Michael finally slipped his shirt over his head when he heard his mother on hot pursuit, “Michael!”; and with one sharp thrust Carolynn opened the door and pushed her head into Michael’s room, “Michael Sweetie, we’re home”, she said beaming.
     “Hi, Mom” Michael said, now standing and wearing, along with his green dragon-less shirt, a pair of dark straight legged jeans embellished with years of wear and tear at the knees, “I’ll be down in a minute, kay?” Michael, now forcing a smile.
    “Oh, well- of course”, Carolynn said, distracted by the look of Michael’s room, “you probably want to get dressed any how”, she smiled and nodded.
     “I am dressed”.
     “Well,” she paused awkwardly, “indeed you are; but you might want to do something with your hair,” she said leaning in, and whispering, “you’re starting to look a little shaggy”, ending with a wink and nod.
     “Thanks Mom”.
     “Of course sweetie, any time. Oh, and your father is very excited to see you” Carolynn said pulling away from the door but still sustaining her smiling face until the door finally closed.

Soooooooo? Should I continue? Or maybe continue it but just not through a blog?....Oh the mounding questions (joke).
-Toby K.
(ps. I kind of hate and kind of love Michael's name. I might change it later if I get too sick of seeing it all the time.)

Sunday, January 9, 2011

One Good Night Might Lead To The Next.

So I did it. One of my very dearest friends (who happens to be scanning her eyes of these very words) told me to do it and I did it, and before I did it, I sat there nervous wondering about the things I would lose if I did it, wondering about the emptiness that might insue, but once I did it- none of that happened. It was as if a weight I didn't even know was there was lifted off my shoulders. My lungs opened up and I could breathe again. All because I did it.

All because I.....Deleted my FACEBOOK!

AND I got told by more than five people tonight that I looked cute, annnnddd I even got told I looked skinny(er)! BOOYAH!
If that's not a hip hoppin night, I don't know what is.

Okay, thanks for letting me get excited for a second.
Ta-Ta for now.
-Toby K.

(ps. GO DUCKS!)

I don't know who made this pumpkin but I found this picture and thought it was just about the coolest thing ever.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Strickly Buisness.

This is not an usual Toby K. post sadly since I've been promising some more within the recent weeks, this post is strickly update. It's early and I'm tired and want to sleep.
My Point:
I am taking a Media Fast. I was told that while Pastor Mammen was still here he did a month long Media Fast with the church and since I've seen the affects both positive and negative (mostly negative) that the media has had on my life I thought it didn't sound like too bad of an idea. God has dealt with me for months about my time spent with media and I'm finally acknowledging it. My fast will start Sunday January 9th and go through Febuary 9th. I might continue aspects of my fast more long term than that, but during that month I will be really strict about my Media use. I will not go on Youtube or Facebook at all and maybe by the end of the fast my facebook will be deleted all together. I will cut out all music in my life, from home life to car rides. I will limit my blogger visits to three times a week for simple blog updates and things along those lines. I will only check my emails once a week. The only other time I will be on the internet will be for research and checking my bank account balance, which wont be often.
I'm debating on books since I haven't had a struggle with books, but without other media I can see books being a problem. For now- books are still on the fence.
No movies or television obviously. No news paper.
There will probably be more added to this list come Sunday and if you can think of anything that I haven't listed or have any other suggestions I'd love to hear them. This is new to me, but I'm excited. The hardest for me will be music. It's like my baby; my wonderful, wymsical, plentiful, baby of all goodness, but if I spend more hours listening to music than I do talking to God- there might be a problem.
Anyways, I think that's all the updates I had....I think.
Well I'm tired.
(Oh! And I have a good story idea that I plan on writing in a series of blogs, I'm just not sure quite where to take it yet. I'm still planning, but I have a month of no distraction, I'm sure I'll be able to come up with something.)
-Toby K.