a handful

this weekend was wonderful.

productive and comical.

sometimes i just need people who i can be myself with.
and i am thankful to have had a handful (yes, i am learning to be thankful for the handful. ) that have allowed me to do so.
what a pleasant thing.

life delights in

yes, yes, yes.

come above the surface.

today i did not use an alarm but i chose to let my body do its thing and rest as long as it wanted. nine hours. a glorious nine hours of rest. miracle of miracles, i did not have any frustrating dreams, i did not wrestle with my sheets because of restlessness. sweet sleep. and a quiet house. the phone rings occasionally but i refuse to answer when it is only a telemarketer. everyone is at work or school. i cannot imagine who my father, my mother, my niece, my nephew, and my sister are when they are not here. when their mother or brother or aunt or sister or grandparents aren't giving them a role to slip into. we are all separate people living separate lives. but i do love when our lives intersect (sometimes chaotically).

i stretched.

my body creaks in the morning. like a rusted door hinge. like popcorn in the microwave. is it strange to say i look forward to the creaking of my body? perhaps, "look forward" is not the right phrase. perhaps, anticipate would be better? either way. it is something i can always count on. it is something i expect. the creaking of my body is business as usual.

i read.

about a whole life affected by the faithfulness of God. about confidence and hope in a Rock, in a Refuge, to which i can always go. about things i know not the measure of. and i pondered how i have relied on Him in ways i cannot articulate. and how i have relied on Him in ways that i have usually been unaware of. and i pondered how such a dependable God is deserving of praise. more and more and more.

(and at the same time)

i ate.

my mother purchased english muffins last week. i have not had these in ages. toasted and spackled with butter and strawberry jam, they were delightful. accompanied by a tall glass of milk, they were, indeed, the perfect morning snack.

i stilled myself.

after reading a quote from evelyn underhill:

"For a spiritual life is simply a life in which all that we do comes from the centre, where we are anchored in God: a life soaked through and through by a sense of His reality and claim, and self given to the great movement of His will."

the first phrase gave me reason enough to pause.

from the centre.

and i closed my eyes imagining how it could be so.

such imagining was overpowered by a scene that materialized from the blackness behind my eyes. a scene that i did not witness in real time and space but have conjured in dreams and in wake. it is a scene fabricated from a place of fear, of wanting to know what really happened those times i wasn't holding your hand. it took me a minute or so to realize how terribly off course my train of thought had gone. frustrated by my lack of concentration and unsettled by how the scene, the most offensive of fantasies could appear out of nowhere and interrupt my well-intentioned imagining.

from the centre.

what was in the center was flowing out.

the fear and realization of betrayal has burrowed itself deep.

and for that brief moment of stillness there was an opportunity for it to, gasping for breath, come above the surface.

lord, in those still moments draw from me the most brilliant and hideous thoughts, emotions, dreams. as i give them chance to come up for air, take take take what is harmful to my soul (transform it - if it is possible - into light) and nurture what is good.

one that i hold dear.

my list of "almost published posts" (aka drafts) are accumulating on this thing.
some are not worth finishing, emaciated ideas left wanting. ravenous for substance. uninterested in superfluous language - an amateurs guise alleging they have something with body to say.
many were impulsive. times have been hard and writing is helpful. but those posts, full of swift judgments and inundating uncertainty, can be buried by the passing of time.

the latter suggest, as can be proven on multiple accounts, that i am quickly and deeply agitated by small disturbances. granted, these disturbances, usually in the form of memories, are linked to occasions that required much of me. much that i initially declined. after time and mistakes (oh, how time supplies ample opportunity to ruminate and wander in thought then action.) staving off the summoning of change and the proposition for a different life took their toll. i consented to both. glady, i should add. this is not to say i don't have hard days. i am glad for my decisions. they were precisely what i needed to do.

my temperament, my inclination towards behaving in certain ways, reacts with hesitancy and hostility towards change. usually seen as optimistic, i realize this is only concerning others. when something disrupts my day, my plans, my wants, my needs, my life i am undone. ask those who know me best. i am working to remedy this. (with help, of course.)

so here is a reflection on this, one that i hold dear.
it is an image and idea i touched the day i was caught in a lie.
one of a string of lies. truth, this is something i am working on as well.
but honesty is hard.
i digress.

the reflection:

there is a monster without footprints or perceivable expressions. flighty and rash. a monster, i say! he pays little regard to the order, the precise-ness of things. he is skinny, no!, he is a contortionist, squeezing effortlessly through the knitting in your sweater. he is fat, no!, he has a bumbling frame, tearing off roof shingles in one fell swoop. his whistle is chilling. his roar will swallow you. he is not always so monstrous (i concede, he can be kind. gentle, even.), but the unfortunate truth is: he is marred with animosity.

humble winged creatures tied to mildly strong branches

quiver, quiver, quiver.

he has come. is coming. will come.

they flutter. they quake. bellies exposed and backs breaking.

light and fragile creatures: representatives of the ephemeral and ambassadors of life, change, and death. follow the courage in their veins to thick and thicker and thickest limbs, to thin and thinner and thinnest fingers. fingers with a steady hold. underground and unaffected by the tremoring above.

the mass of it's body may be swayed but it shan't be moved.

...

i want to be like this tree.

simply like this tree.

grounded. rooted. established.

i see frenzied movement at the leaves but the whole is unbent by every gust and blow.

yes, i want to be like this.

grounded. rooted. established.

luxurious

i want a pillow from here.

my wish list is growing.

( brown eyeliner, 4-color palette of eyeshadows, boots, etc.)

and at the same time i am learning that

i do not need more.

what i have is enough.

let's be real,

more than enough.

feeling warm water on my bare back

every morning

is

luxurious.

today i am thankful for the things that won't always be there.

the things i take for granted.

like this computer.

like a bed.

like a toothbrush.

like socks.

uneasy about abandonment.

it's like a child, sweet but lonely, with salt rivers on the inside.

it's like a child postured territorially around her play things.

oh, and her family too.

oh, and her friends as well.

it's like a child uneasy about abandonment.

it's like a child grabbing and clinging,

all the time seized by, governed by the repetitious stubborn refrain:

mine, mine, mine.

if another child makes advances they will be met by a break in the dam.

let the rivers flow.

it's like a child who, after protecting her possessions from the sticky fingers and passing glances of other children (yes, even glances!), finds out they are not hers to begin with.

and finds that she has been a recepient of great gifts.

ah, but the refrain still murmurs beneath her thankfulness at times.

it's like a child who fights the murmuring and chooses gratitude that does not grab or cling, but holds loosely.

critical, potetent, fertile

"After nearly two years, I had absolutely nothing tangible to show for two whole years of my life.....I wanted my new life to start yesterday. So why was it taking so long?.....Have I mentioned that I'm really bad at waiting? I wanted to fast forward through the whole process and find out where I was going to BE. Which means (you guessed it), I was definitely not living in the moment.....I've since realized that those two years were critical, potent, fertile years of development, during which I planted all the seeds that are now blossoming.
I now call those two years my Waiting and Becoming years."

dr. lissa rankin

stolen from this lady.

sadly,

today feels like a friday.

sadly, it is a tuesday.

right now i lift my proverbial glass to the assignments, exams, essays pressing on all sides and to the moments amid and among busyness where i meet the familiar bursting eyes of companions.

yes, i am that girl on the freeway.

my ipod is headed to its deathbed.

and can only be used when plugged in.

and my course of action is most definitely turning on the radio.

even though i cannot stand interjections from radio hosts or commercials.

(although sometimes i opt for silence.)

sidenote: i love dance music.

i may not go clubbing but i love to move around.

purpose of this post: i love this song.

whenever it comes on i smile.

and sing along.

and try and do that ridiculous run in the middle of the song.

and whether or not i can do it, i keep singing.

loudly.

and i keep dancing in my seat.

unashamedly.

yes, i am that girl on the freeway.

this song may not be musically intricate.

david guetta and usher may have accomplished no creative feat.

but it sure is catchy.

and that's enough sometimes.

so please turn your speakers up and join with me in my love for

fun, simple, listener-friendly music.

celebrate

after a long week i was able to celebrate life in all of it's ordinariness this weekend with my family, with friends, with the feller. i was able to appreciate the moments that are quite different from routine because of new life stages or anniversaries.

i celebrated working with children with a friend.

tag. four corners. coloring. popcorn. loud children. know-it-all children.

i celebrated an almost-bride.

sweet and bitter, young and old ladies present. people from everywhere together for a lady of simplicity and faith. languages: asl. spanish. english. laughter. panties. cupcake contests. decor that will make you salivate. mom stealing my lipstick.

(for the second time this week) i celebrated the one year mark with the feller.

food, always. orange circle, always. faces in yellow light. the original bowtie. lots of kisses. round two? remembering the year. how things began and almost ended. being so thankful for the way things have turned out. enjoying him for him.

i celebrated Christ our Redeemer, our Living Hope.

dancing. jumping. singing even though my voice is tired. truth. reminded of His power sans the kooky, weird, sensationalist tricks. (even though sometimes His power working in our lives looks strange.) reminded that i need only be myself walking in that power. silly pastors. really silly pastors. free lunch. mexican food. tv. naptime with the feller and friends. homework. and now taking a break from homework to recount and take stock of the many things i have to be thankful for.

i have so many reasons to celebrate Him.

He is so good.

cheers

today is our one year.

perhaps this would be a better picture.

so cheers to this feller.

to his character.

to his patience.

to his intelligence.

to his humour.

to his talents.

to his kindness.

to his strangeness.

to his good looks.

to his facial hair.

to his vulnerability.

to his dreams.

to his faithfulness.

and cheers to us.

to working through it all.

thank you, dear.

to the easiness we have right now.

to the difficulties we have right now.

and to the hope we have for many tomorrows.

i am so fortunate to do this with him.

i am so proud to partner with him.

all is muddy water sometimes.

and if everything to this point has been about me, how disheartening.

what does it to mean to give up my life?

not loving it so much that i lose it. not clinging. not trying to preserve myself and what i want and what i want others to think of me. offering it up. giving it up. living sacrifice. painful. suffering. testing. costly.

whoever loses his life for my sake will lose it,

and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

matthew 10:39

new international version

if your first concern is to look after yourself, you'll never find youreslf.

but if you forget about youreslf and look to me,

you'll find both yourself and me.

matthew 10:39

the message

i am receiving my life back.

i am being trusted with my life.

but this opportunity offers up cumbersome questions and formidable tasks.

i, on most accounts, have been so paralyzed and chained by the fear of things not turning out how i planned, of not getting precisely what i want, of letting others down. fear has kept me from saying yes to freedom for so long. anxious to preserve the temporal. the comfort, the security. not trusting God to come through, to provide or satisfy me. not trusting His generous love for me and His good thoughts towards me.

i am receiving my life back.

little by little.

and motives for every interaction with you and yours and them and theirs are surfacing. all is muddy water sometimes. but i know, am assured, am completely convinced that He is faithful to finish the good work He has begun in me. and i will submit to the process He deems best to accomplish this. even though it is scary to think of the many options that i can be made more His, more myself.

now i am just talking.

rambling.

forgive me, because i could go on.

p.s. this isn't perfectly said, i know. but i am forsaking the lure of polished language because i am not all that refined, flawless, or excellent right now.

even if

sometimes fear persuades me otherwise.

but not today.

i have resolved to live truthfully.

to live exposed.

even if i feel just that.

(naked, without covering)

even if i have done a destestable job thus far.

today i know that i can choose other than

what is easy or what i am used to.

and today i will do just that.

p.s. sometimes other people say it better than i ever could.

if we will only

i need to be reminded that love can be at the center of all things,

if we will only keep it there.

-kathleen norris

courage

story of my life right now.