New Blog

I have had this blogger for about 2 years now. I have grown in many ways since then, especially in my writing. I was looking for a blog layout a little more sophisticated, and just a fresh start in general.

You can now find me here:

http://theodorahermes.wordpress.com/ 

Bookmark it, and I hope you all continue to follow me.

Be whole, be well.

Who Is A Friend?

(in life's changing tides of friends getting married, moving away, going to college and meeting new people I have been doing a lot of thinking on what makes someone a "friend." I don't have the answer completely; much more is felt than known, but these are some of the humble conclusions I have come to.) 

A friend is someone who pushes me into deeper levels of love, thought and spirituality-but also in some mysterious and perfect balance still accepts me for exactly who I am. And in accept, I don’t mean cradle my bad habits or feed my insecurities, but instead, shows affection towards the attributes of me that are quirky, odd or different. 

A friend is someone who holds conversation with me on something we disagree on, but after awhile is alright with giving up. A friend is someone who offers a smirk or a light-hearted chuckle at the frustrating (yet beautiful) idea that we are all different, and it would be boring if we all thought the same.

A friend is someone who is active in my life through some kind of presence: sometimes physical, sometimes solely emotional or spiritual. It is someone who takes activity in my life whatever the circumstances may be. If the phone call is all that is doable, then the phone call is made. If it is everyday showing up at my house for a walk, then it is the walk. A friend works with whatever is given, and is not idle, passive nor lazy.

A friend is someone who loves without conditions. It is not the love that only occurs "if" or "when" this or that at happens, rather it is always available, always free to be given and even more freely taken. A friend is someone who never records the wrong doings but thinks on the good doings. A friend is someone who says that they will love and care without restraint, without expectations or conditons, but yet fully knows that if the other person feels the same, we will meet at a place of common satisfaction. 

A friend is someone who recognizes that friendship is the unexplainable bond between two people or a group of people. A friend is someone that recognizes that friendship may morph into actions, but it is birthed in the soul. A friend is someone who knows that friendship cannot be dissected, understood, or analyzed. It can only be lived. A friend is someone who is willing to live that journey with me-whether for just a time, or a life time. 

Friends Getting Married

Today I went to the very first wedding of my high school friends. It was the first one, but not the last. In the next year and a half about five of my friends that graduated either with me, or only shortly before, will give their hand in marriage. In fact, lately it has seemed like a frenzy to see who can get the ring, set the date and run down the aisle fast enough.


In the thirteen months since graduation I have attended college full time, picked up three different majors, met some new people, committed to many different activities and certainly changed a lot of my perspectives. This would seem like the normal, healthy and average place that a 19/20 year old out of high school should be in. However, while I was busy studying for Psychology exams or writing 2am essays, my friends were off finding people to marry. I collected 10 pounds (which nestled nicely on my hips) and my friends found diamond rings, mortgages and bridal gowns. In just a one years time, I got left behind with life's changing tides.


I shouldn't let it bother me. Even when I was little my "To Do" list began with traveling the world or writing a book, but never with those two diamond glistening words: Get married. I never dressed up as a bride, and even today the white flowing gown wouldn't be my first choice. However, I begin to question what I always thought would bring happiness when I see others so safely and confidently say what happiness is. My friends are content, joyfully radiant in what they call "true love." If it works for them, why wouldn't it work for me? Why don't I join the bandwagon? 


After a few of these self defeating questions I have to remember that even though I grew up with these friends, they are not the measuring stick for what I should do with the rest of my life. What works for one person may not work for one another. One person's dreams is not another person's dreams.

I may get married someday. I would be happy with finding somewhat special whom I can call my own. I can envision sitting on porch swings, singing love songs and having someone to talk to every morning. What I can also envision is buying a house, and enjoying the single life of doing things when and how I please. I can imagine raising adoptive children, and being perfectly content enjoying my job, my children, family and social life. Whether I walk down the aisle or not, I will be fine. Either possibility. Fine. 


Simply, my fear is not that I won't get married. My fear is that if I don't, I will always live in my friends' shadows, achieving some things but never reaching happiness' full potential. My fear is not that I will be looked down upon. My fear is that I will pitied. Hypothetically, I do wonder. If I never say "I Do", will my friends be just as happy for me when I get my doctorate? Or adopt my child? Or get writing published? Or buy a house? Will these things be the applaud-deserving achievements they are, or will they always be in held in the light of what is missing? (in this case being, a husband.)


My only request is that if I can attend wedding after wedding, put on a smile and shriek at the ring, that they can support me in my future successes and joys. You ask if I have hope that my friends will be this supportive, progressive and open-minded? With a tad bit of doubt, this independent woman says, “I do.” (No punt intended.)

Chiming Thoughts

summer's air is slowly sneaking in

along with yesterday's sin.

it's a whole different season,

and we have all the same reasons.

we put on the same faces,

to return to the same dull places.

looking far out, looking wide-

i think, has hope died?

i hear the ringing chimes,

like clanging quarters and dimes.

how much i want something new,

yet it's the same song and rhyme.

Alana & Malachi

I have known Alana and Malachi since the moment they were born, and have spent large amounts of time with them. They moved to Hawaii on Sunday, and I will sincerely miss them. These shots are from my last night with them-it was a lovely spring evening and we played on the swing set and had a competitive game of tag. 

You Hold My Hand

In the very darkest lows,
Where no one dares to tread or go,
Immersed in depression and laden with grief,
Through every tear that found no relief-
You hold my hand.

Full of joy and light with glee,
A heart that’s open, a spirit that’s free.
Life lived with a purest smile,
Through the times that make it all worthwhile-
You hold my hand.

Friends that left, family that passed,
Goodbyes said, cars speeding away fast.
In every change that brought remorse
Through life’s sad changing course-
You hold my hand.

Many have faulted, many have let down,
Many have left me dismayed with frowns.
In every rejection and every lie,
Through every hope of love that died-
You hold my hand.

Where may one find acceptance so pure?
Where may one find a shelter so secure?
I search and I ponder,
And through realizing there is a love no fonder-
You hold my hand.

Through time, through all mankind,
The mother’s love never tires or declines.
I know very little but this much is true,
That no matter where I wander or what I do-
You hold my hand. 

Thea's New Home

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day which definitely rings some chimes of thankfulness in my heart. God's goodness and life's goodness has most evidently been shown to me through the women in my life. 

I have seen these women be delicate, strong, proud, beautiful, intelligent and achieving and it is because of them that I have pride and hope in my own womanhood. 

I thank God for these women, who are a rich fountain of endless blessings, wisdom, and nurture to me. With all things, I am truly blessed. 

"We all wanted the real mother, the blood mother, the great womb, mother of fierce compassion, a woman large enough to hold all the pain, to carry it away. What we needed was someone who bled, someone deep and rich as a field, a wide-hipped mother, awesome, immense, women like huge soft couches, mothers coursing with blood, mothers big enough, wide enough, for us to hide in, to sink down to the bottom of, mothers who would breathe for us when we could not breathe anymore, who would fight for us and maybe even die for us."-White Oleander

Shots from Travis' prom

Is it Idealism? Or just what it should be?

Is it no longer normal to have conversations with people who serve your food or ring up your groceries? Is being considerate, kind and hopeful now labeled as "hopeless idealism?" Are general manners now considered "compassion"? Have we treaded so far from the simple idea that all people are human beings who we should treat with love and respect? Is actually taking the time to connect with another person we do not know a new phenomena? 

To me, it's pretty basic. I'm a person, you're a person. If you cut me, I bleed. If I cut you, you bleed. We both cough, sneeze, can catch a flu, have a family, cry, have experienced loss, have life and will someday die. Are we that different?

We walk around in our own little worlds with no intention of interacting with other people. If someone doesn't validate us, we don't talk to them. If someone is different than us, we don't bother. If someone doesn't agree with us, they must be wrong. It makes me very sad. 

I have a long way to go in terms of truly loving people and I fall short everyday. However, I do grow indignant when it seems like the world just assumes that there are no more people out there who do try. I try every single day. Even on my bad days. I try to acknowledge every person I come in contact with-from the coffee shop worker to the gardener outside to the cafeteria ladies. I try. And I don't think I am the only one in the world who does. 

I will never have a deep connection with everyone. It wasn't meant to be that way and it shouldn't be that way cause then the idea of real relationships wouldn't exist. However, no person is an object to me and I acknowledge their humanity, soul, spirit and heart in whatever way I can. That's not great. That's not admirable. That's just how it should be. 

And shame on you if it's not!

Good Shots from Travis' Prom

Nature Will Heal The Soul

When exhaustion hangs on such heavy eyes

and the whole self, all of it, 

is swallowed up in one weary sigh,

Nature will heal the soul.

When there is another job or demand

and all the voices wanting make it seem that

sanity is dripping away like hour glass sand,

Nature will heal the soul.

When there is noise, so much noise

and ears are shriveling up;

aching for silence and growing annoyed,

Nature will heal the soul. 

When melancholy runs its course,

no great sorrow existing

yet strange discontent and remorse,

Nature will heal the soul.

May I escape these four walls?

May I tread away from all man made?

May I just feel the rain fall?

Nature will heal the soul. 

Soaring onward, like an eagle in flight-

feeling winds, trees, oceans, storms,

for a moment flying free out of sight.

Nature will heal the soul. 

Snapshots of Spring

Today was 74 degrees and sunny. It was the warmest day of 2009, so I had to photograph it. It was a beautiful day, and my soul been waiting for the warmth for a long time!

The Old Soul

My soul has traveled far to yonder ocean,

it has walked the sands and stood beneath the rains.

My soul has danced to the victory songs,

it has grazed the desert grounds.

My soul has shook the hands of stragglers, 

it has tasted wine with the royality. 

My soul has been far and wide. 

My soul has journeyed through the fire,

it has stood in danger's presence.

My soul has known the short comings,

it has flown to places of high and low.

My soul has cried for what never was,

it has traveled, traveled long, into what is.

My soul has been far and wide. 

My soul is trapped in this humble frame,

it is caged by rib bones, muscles, skin.

My soul defies the physical age,

it has lived much longer than this mortal time.

My soul is calling out, longing to be heard,

it is the essence; the psyche, my whole.

My soul has been far and wide. 

Birthday's That Don't Come

Today was Dave French's 47th birthday. Dave French was my godmother's husband of twelve years, and he passed away on July 5, 2005. Today would have been his birthday. I kept thinking about it today. I even found myself somewhat distracted. 

I wrote in my journal: Dear Dave, thank you for loving me. I miss you. 

That's really all I could come up with. I ended the note with the first worship song I ever played with him (me on my flute, him on his piano.) What a friend I've found, more faithful than a mother. It would break my heart, if we were to lose each other. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, friend forever. 

I just wanted to do a tribute to him. I am trusting that there is somewhere deep in the eye of God that understands why people die young, why women are made widows and why people experience loss. I know Dave's soul continues to exist, and it thrives even more now then it ever did here. 

A New Position

As of today (at around 5:30pm) I am officially the President of Lebanon Valley College's Feminist organization, "The F-Word." I've known it was coming for awhile, but tonight I still kept walking around thinking, "I'm President. I'm President."

I do not have any agenda when it comes to the F-Word. My job is not to make everyone at LVC a feminist, nor is to make anyone a feminist anywhere. I view this as yet another way, another channel and revenue in which I can work for equality and social issues. 

When I went to LVC Live! with my Mom last April, I was convinced that I wanted to join and be involved in the F-Word. It's strange what has happened in a year. On Saturday, Kayla and I will be working the table for the incoming students of year 2013.

I am thrilled, excited and humbled to have this new position. I hope and pray I serve it well!

"When I see the elaborate study and ingenuity displayed by women in the pursuit of trifles, I feel no doubt of their capacity for the most herculean undertakings."

-Julia Ward Howe

Questions & Me

We had to do this for my Education class and I thought it was very interesting. 

What Are Words You Would Use To Describe Yourself?

Sensitive. Intense. Fun. Sarcastic. Needs space. Activist. Care-free. Strong. Passionate. Relational. Interpersonal. Introspective. Personable. Talker. Honest. Interested. Grateful. Curious. Thinker.

What Are Questions You Have About Yourself; Specifically Academic?

Will I be a good psychologist? A good teacher? Will I be accepted for who I am? How much will I change? Will I be able to escape the stereotypes put on women in the work force? Will I get my doctorate? Will I learn to be a better test taker?

What Are Questions You Have About The World?

Will I ever have a female President? Will the world ever be in a place of no violence or war (since the majority of my life I have known terrorism and violence)? Will the world move in a direction of less sexism, racism and discriminations? Will I make a difference?

Death, Where is your sting?

I was in Princeton, New Jersey a few weeks ago visiting family. On a chilly day we visited the cemetery where the ashes of many of grandparents and cousins are kept. Most of my family died in old age.. 80, 90 years old. Their deaths are tragic because people miss them, but time gave them as fair of a shake as one could ask for.

However, there were some in the cemetery who were not given such a fair shake. There was a memorial for an 18 year old girl. I looked at her picture. She had long hair and sat in front of a mirror with a ballet shoes. She was only a Senior in high school. I tried to imagine not living the last year and a half of my life. I tried imagining not existing, and only having those 18 years. I couldn't conceive of it.

Then there was a memorial for a mother. 42 years old. Left behind a husband and children. She was a nurse. The photograph showed her grinning ear to ear in her scrubs, about to go to work. A flood of memories came over me. I remembered the summer night I heard that Dave, a close friend of my family died of a sudden heart attack at 43 years old. This woman died at 40. We still had Dave for those 3 years. Her children must miss her. They must ache for her life. I am sure they would have loved those 3 extra years.

I walked on, looking at memorial after memorial of children.. teenagers.. middle age men and women.. Iraqi soldiers. In moments lives ended, stories were cut short, and people we were thrown into a new horrifying tale of loss.

My mind was racing, my heart was pounding, my eyes were fighting back tears. I was questioning. Why do people have to die young? Why do people have to die at all? Why do we have to live our lives, and even in the best moments, know that it won't last? Why is our final destination a grave?

Then, standing in the middle of the marble glistening cemetery, I turned around and saw a crucifix. My heart almost jumped out of my chest. I walked over to it. I gazed at the gold sketching of Jesus' face. I saw the agony crafted into his eyes, his tense muscles and his lowered head. I stood there and I ran my fingers over his body. I touched his defined arms, his worker's fingertips, his chest that looked like it was extended out-in a final desperate breath. I touched His crown, thorns piercing what was meant to be human scalp. This simple piece of art was agony. It was agony and it was death.

And there He hangs, in the land of other deaths. It almost as if He is continually dying, continually showing us the blood, the tears, the gasps, the horror. I wondered then, Is this why Jesus did it? Did Jesus die because He knew someday people would walk through cemeteries and fear death? Did He do it so we would not have to be afraid?

Perhaps He knew that to die once is terrifying, horrible and unspeakable. To die eternally would almost be too much for a soul to bear.

In that moment in the cemetery I was no longer in New Jersey. I was in the deepest lows of despair in awareness of the frailty that comes with being human. Yet in those deepest lows I was also high up-floating over this carnal earth. I was suddenly painfully and humbly reminded that before Jesus was a King, He was criminal on a cross. And before He knew life abudantly, He died ultimate death.

Watch The Melting

Drip drop.

Ice melts.

I felt,

It hit my head.

Blazing sun.

Snow runs,

Into the street.

Puddles appear.

Water here,

Instead of ice.

Drip drop.

It fades.

Blue invades,

The once gray skies.

A sign.

Not confined.

By winters past.

A hope.

To cope.

Spring is birthing. 

Close Ups of Winter

The Ferry

(Taken in New York City, on Jan. 15,09)

Walk On A Winter Day