ploughs forward.

two weeks ago i took the cbest. friends said it was easy and i believed them. that is, until the the night before. in true stacey fashion i was rattled with nervousness. the assault of worries :
i should have prepared better! math is not my strong subject. my first c was in math, for goodness sake. i haven't written a timed essay in years. why didn't i practice this? 
i looked up tips and review questions on my android. curse around the clock accessibility to the internet. what should have placated me only exacerbated my angst. i woke up exhausted at 5:30 am but rolled over and slept thirty minutes more. i could afford a half hour of uninterrupted rest. God knows, i would have spent it worrying.

what redeemed the forty minute drive south was the delightful green parading springs coming. it served both as distraction and anchor. a distraction from the reality of taking a standardized test in a high school classroom. an anchor to the reality that life and time and things keep going. spring will burst through winter's barren, endless white and summer will scorch springs' life and fall will strip summer of whatever radiance it has left. but the trees still grow if you lose your job or you get a promotion. life ploughs forward.

for three years, i have been a playground/after school supervisor. it offers flexibility and brief shifts. this was ideal my final two years in college. work never overtaxed me. it could be reenergizing, at times. and it has been nice working here post-grad in addition to my position at my church. it has aroused concern:

minimum wage, no matter how much i love my job and how many hours i scour from sick employees, isn't a sustainable income.
playground and daycare are easy. i enjoy preparing snacks, assisting with homework, and running around with those rascals. there are days when no body wants to listen and things go south, but discipline isn't difficult. my job is too easy.

the cbest offers an answer.

if i ever plan on moving out, getting married, paying off my loans i need a higher income. substitute teaching provides this, without nixing children whom i love.
it is also something i have never done and will challenge me. i've been encouraged by several friends, older, wiser, who have substitute taught or been full-time teachers. it will help me walk taller, command the room with authority and kindness, be sure of what i have to say (or humbly admit i have no idea what i'm doing). they say the classroom is the best training room for being a speaker, a leader. i need work in this area.

i took the cbest and i passed. some of the questions were less intuitive but i passed.
eager to know how well i did, i scanned the page for my score.
the minimum passing requirement is 123, i scored a 172...

out of 240.
ouch. before i could celebrate the fact that i passed, i felt pummeled by disappointment. i am an idiot, i thought. my reading was my highest, math my second highest, and writing my lowest.
ouch. i love to write. sometimes i aspire to take writing classes and compile my words into a children's book? a collection of poetry and observations? into something true and alive. i am an idiot, i reminded myself.

i called the feller with the news - all of it. he is so good to me.
not until we hung up did i concede that i am not my score. in 11th grade AP english, my teacher talked with us about this subject concerning the looming SAT test we would be taking soon.

isn't this great? i says so much about our society's obsession with measured academic achievement that creates a hierarchy of intelligence and, thus, worth. i am not here to argue the validity of these tests, only to say that the scores reflect the ability of the test taker to apply selected information and skills in a standardized test (and test setting - ugh). these scores say nothing about who the test takers are.

i am good with kids. i can guide and direct and discipline and encourage them well.
their little successes make my heart leap.

so, while i could retake the test for a higher score, i know that it isn't necessary as it is incosequential to my getting a job. it would only be to satisfy my need for an A, which is a conditioned desire rooted in the human aspiriation for meaning and value. thank you, 'merica. thank you, childhood. 
i don't need to satisfy that need. i know who i am. and i am not an idiot.
i don't need to get hung up on this even though the idea of upcoming interviews almost paralyzes me.

in other news: after i hung up with the feller, i attempted to make cream of mushroom soup. cooking is relaxing. i cook slow and enjoy the process, the simmering, the melting, the mixing. it helps me think and focus. the cbest scores must have really put me in a funk because i forgot to check if i had the right amount of each ingredient. i am a planner, checker, double checker but my measurements were off. i continued cooking with fingers crossed. there was too much flour. down the garbage disposal.
i succombed to my new fallback: the grilled cheese with spinach and tomato.
slowly cooked to perfection and instantly satisfying over an episode of glee.
so while i felt disappointed that even my mushroom soup was a fail, i still managed to give thanks that life mercifully ploughs forward.

thanksgiving: the issue of looking forward

thanksgiving was testing for me.

the impulse to move out is, no doubt, the reason. i am peeved by the constant suggestions to put on a sweater, being the joke of most interactions, having my convictions and desires dismissed, and the texts inquiring my wherabouts after eleven pm.  i am not almost-twenty-three in this house. i am not a college graduate. i am sixteen and naive. i am still the baby, will always be the baby. this is all exacerbated because i am home more often. without seventeen to twenty-one units, an internship, and a job i have time. i have two jobs but one doesn't require daily hours. so i am at home, cleaning my room or washing clothes or putting together a craft. what was once a sanctuary now feels confining. so, moving out is a viable prospect within the next 8-12 months. i am set on it.

the difficulty is the 8-12 months. thankfulness could very well find its eternal rest buried under my list of grievances. thankfulness smited by looking foward, not staying put - here, now.

Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;

you have made my lot secure.

the boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

surely i have a delightful inheritance.

psalm 16:5-6

these verses ground me constantly. fussing is always an option. my parents may hover and be overbearing but they love me*. they have financed whatever i set my heart on. they fill the kitchen with laughter and good food.  they prioritize family first. they have given their lives to their children and welcome conversation. my siblings, well, they are boisterous and are perplexed by their introvert of a sister but will always stand by my side. and complaining about time is foolish. fussing may be an option, but giving thanks is the better choice, the more appropriate response.

i am thankful for

a home that i did nothing to earn. 

i was born and have had free room and board ever since.

a healthy body.

a family that cares about one another.

working with children.

working with my church family.

time to explore, refine, and indulge in the things i love.
time to sink deeply into who i am.

steadfast friends and the feller.

a good and faithful God.

and because i am thankful i will steward my time wisely, i will be faithful with what i have been given, i will offer up the work of my hands, i will dwell in the land and enjoy it here, now.

gratitude sometimes requires willful perspective.

*this doesn't mean i refrain from confrontration.  i have never been in want save space and quiet and their respect. these things i can ask for in a manner that is suitable of an almost-twenty-three year old. i guess that is part of growing up.

non-sentences.

a recap of our two year celebration (october fifth) in non-sentences.

fake glasses and pleated skirts. feasting from morning to evening. fritattas and italian eggs benedict. strawberry jam, apricot jam - housemade thank-you-very-much. brie and chicken. duck breast and quail. pork tenderloin and gnocchi. steak and shepherd's salad. other housemade items: salami, beef pate, chicken liver mousse, chocolate and banana ice cream. imaginitave flavors. pure, sophisticated flavors. food venturing on unreal, of another world. fingers laced and the familiar cadences of eachother's voice. appreciating store owners and restaurant servers. gift giving and exchanging notes. nearly-napping at a park. seeing the whole turtle - finally! strong kisses. a streak of milky starshine on a black sky. escaping run-ins with pantless men and mysterious cars parking in bushes. filing up the tank at the same stop we did summer of 2011. indulging in a slow drive through that neighborhood - yellow lights and busy sidewalks. and finally sweet goodbyes that we wished weren't goodbyes.

some actual sentences:

he is my favorite friend (but not my only friend). i'm a lucky girl. we make a pretty good team.

and an expression from miss austen, which sums up how i currently feel:

cheers

this weekend my sister-friend got married to this guy. (sorry for the grainy picture i stole from somebody's facebook...) and the feller and i were lucky enough to make it in the bridal party!

it was memorable and it has been an honor to see them make this journey towards marriage. they have endured much and have sought counsel and the wisdom of others. they have loved God by loving each other well, by continually inviting Him into the conversation. they are good examples and great friends.

i have known Truth by their correction and love. they always make me laugh. and usually leave me feeling uncomfortable! but this is in a good way. a way that helps me realize how people's uniqueness is to be celebrated, a way that pulls me out of my introverted cacoon. they are so much fun and i love them dearly. i am thankful for their presence in my life.

cheers to the beginning in all its vibrancy.

cheers to navigating the daily-ness of life.

cheers to trusting God and each other when life is grey or black.

cheers to intimacy in all its forms.

cheers to a sacred union, the blending of lives, that insufferable balance between you and i and us.

cheers to their life together.

last night, family and friends picked bottle caps off the floor, stacked dirty dishware, folded linens, rolled out tables and loaded up cars with props and decor.  many hands make light work. yes. this, i think, is the biggest testament to the kinds of people jackie and josh are. they have a circle of loved ones who will, even after the celebration and in their absence, voluntarily serve them. 

boundary lines and a busy week.

i shall not be in want because i have not been left wanting. i've said this before. i will continue to say this. because it is a reminder that i have everything i need. that i actually live in abundance. because it points to truth. last year i did not have this vocabulary, this conviction. last year i had tears and headaches and a quiet yes, a wriggling obedience. my recalcitrance was confronted by scripture.

 

lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;

you have made my lot secure.

the boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

surely i have a delightful inheritance

psalm 16:5-6

last year my ill-behaved wants terrorized every good thing. destruction would come, i was warned. the matter, the stuff that held my life together - those miniscule binding components - shook in violence. my portion and my cup could change. but i know the Story. sometimes the cup is suffering. sometimes the portion is blood-sweat. and being in one place necessitates not being elsewhere. and having one life necessitates not having another. my lot would change and my home, my dwelling, my land (and all the things within) would be on the other side of the fence. then and there my yes and obedience hinged on my belief that the new home, dwelling, and land would be good. that the cup and portion would be good. 

there is the promise and then there is all the time before the promise becomes reality. the time before - the changing and moving - would follow the Story. and the only way to experience the reality of things hoped for but not seen was to go through with it. and i did. safe pasture (green pasture!) was found within the loveliest of fences. and what lies outside of the fence is not of importance, is not mine to consider. 

today - all week - i have been a busy girl. i made a centerpiece. i cooked zucchini boats. i cried in the presence of the dearest of friends. i discussed a book. i made plans for the next book. i prepared a surprise, of which the feller was the recepient: took a train, explored shops and buildings, contemplatively walked through a cemetery, napped on grass, interacted with strangers and ate too much. i was number eight in laser tag. i had expectations of friendships. i doubted they would be fulfilled. i feld cared for and cherished because they were. i talked through things. i exercised honesty. i had multiple tiffs with my father. i moved in the direction of reconciliation. i understood he must want it too. i swam in a pool with new(er) friends. today - all week - i have dwelt in the land that was the product of a quiet yes, a wriggling obedience. 

i am tired but 

i am thankful for 

my lot, 

my cup, 

my portion,

and for the One who initiated it all.

therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; 

my body will also rest secure,

because you will not abandon me to the grave,

nor will you let your Holy One see decay.

you have made known to me the path of life;

you will fill me with joy in your presence,

with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

psalm 16:9-11

a melody

my body is aching in strange places today. i'm assuming it's from yesterday evenings run at the canyon. i pushed myself, perhaps too hard. my feet were lighter with my new nikes. and the hills lost their appearance of robustness.

the earth is warmer at dusk - it has absorbed the heat of day and steams 'neath the feet of the tired and determined alike. a runner's only relief are the shadows, a chill breeze, and a swig of water. the point of my prominent chin collects sweat at dusk. and when the collection becomes too heavy it runs down my neck or drips down my shirt. classy, i know. at dawn it is different. the earth is cool from night's blanket of black-blue sky. dew is still visible on dry plants, mist still hangs low enough to wet the face. dawn has a crispness that dusk cannot bottle.

past the halfway point and before the turn out i decided to slow my pace. walking not because i needed to but because i needed to pause. selah. walking because i needed enough breath to sing a melody i have heard in familiar rooms my whole youth. a melody i have sung in a microphone, in the vastness of a congregation, and on my bed through tears.

all i have needed thy hand hath provided - 

great is thy faithfulness lord unto me. 

i may not have a full-time paid position anywhere. i may not be leading a recognizable movement of people. i may not have the excess luxuries that ease life. i may not have a large network of friends to surround myself with. i may not have notable success or talent or intelligence. but He has provided the sum of my needs. even ones i at first refused. even ones i was not and am not aware of. ones that time alone can bring to light. and He continually does so. that is enough to keep comparison at bay, to make small the beast. it is enough to loosen any anxiety that restrains me. it is enough to slow my pace and sing quietly with effort and belief at dusk. 

i've said this before but

i shall not be in want because i have not been left wanting.

period. any want i feel is usually the appetite of comparison and the beast. i know the good things in my life. and they are certainly enough. my life is full and rich on account of the people and places He has provided me with. even in my unrest and conflict He has remained faithful. almost run ins and social media and old habits and appetites might shake my confidence but they cannot shake my knowing, my experience of this. He is faithful and i am the thankful recepient of His faithfulness. 

p.s. i remember reading one time (the language is too beautiful to forget) in the psalms (psalm 37, to be exact) that we "feed upon his faithfulness." it is our food. our only sustenance. and it is enough.

my postulations

i am many things, but poised is not one of them. and i have a way with clumsiness that puts bambi to shame. to the left is a picture of my toe twenty-five days ago. the incident happened at a park within the first ten minutes. it was a field trip with the kiddos. running after an almost first grader, my foot slipped through a plastic ground covering for wires of some sort. i could have crossed over any of the other ones surrounding it but i landed on the only one that was not stable. of course. talent i tell you! my left foot was blanketed in dirt, leaves, sticks, and the like. i rinsed it with my prized dasani water bottle (me, carry water? what?) and i realized that i was bleeding not only from my ankle but from my toe. a more discerning inspection would reveal that i had a deep incision on my ankle and that i had a flap of skin hanging off of my toe, which would be eventually trimmed off leaving a bare section of exposed, raw skin. lex cleaned my wounds and wrapped them. (as much as i struggle with friendships, i can trust this lady.) there wasn't much pain besides the unavoidable sting of alcohol swabs. the whole ordeal was over after multiple cleanings, many bandages, a visit to the doctors resulting in a tetanus shot, and time time time to heal. i lack physical deftness, friends. and i am by no means as polished as my demeanor lets off. i am a fumbling oaf in a small frame. come near me with caution.

that friday triggered a series of laughable events that have inflicted my left foot since then. stubbing and bruising three toes on this foot at a water park. a wart or blister (i have yet to determine) between my big toe and the one next to it sprouting. and a bug bite the size of two quarters side by side is petitioning my nails for a scratch. when i picked up running again last week, i rolled my left ankle. of course. talent i tell you! talent!

i am almost convinced my left foot is cursed. doomed to be amputated one day, by accident or necessity. the feller thinks my postulations are silly and overstated. obviously. but it's still fun to say so. and even though my left foot is cursed, i am still so thankful for it to balance my gait, my stance. to help me move freely, if not nimbly. because some people don't have a left foot. or any feet at all. and some do have but cannot use. so i'm thankful for my cursed left foot. it will give me stories to tell.

not always

i helped the feller and his roommate move on saturday and sunday
twenty plus hours of packing, cleaning, more packing and more cleaning. lots of music and ridiculous statements/jokes. complete exhaustion. food breaks (i.e. sandwiches, pho, ice cream sandwiches, vanilla filled pandas, barbecue chips, orange chicken and rice). jacuzzi time. finally cable and internet and planet earth: incredible families. snuggling and quick signs of affection between lifting, organizing, and scrubbing.
i've never helped anyone move before like this. i'm sore for goodness sake. and i can't calculate the number of bruises i've accumulated over two days. but it was so much fun.
and i am excited for the future. for moving out. for moving in. for eventually living with people other than my parents. for grocery shopping, dish washing, and bills. yes, even bills. for small experiences i will capture with my holga, given to me about a year ago from the feller.

we will not always be young.
but while we are young let's set this world on fire.
i had to do that.
ahem.
but while we are young i resolve to enjoy and be thankful for every ride in a uhaul, every cheap and filling dinner, every dog that playfully attacks me, every hug and kiss, every deep gaze, every every every.

p.s. their new place has windows, long open windows. natural light galore. my favorite.

make well

this morning i am holding thankfulness closely.

and letting it make well my sick, fearful heart.

miranda sings

last night i went to [la] and i saw miranda sings.

it was fantastic.

today i made the best sandwich i've ever made:

french roll.

butter lettuce.

honey ham.

tomato.

havarti cheese.

alfalfa sprouts.

avocado.

light mayo.

spicy mustard.

so good.

i am thankful for

date afternoon/nights with the feller,

which include lazy dog cafe and waching this movie

and our favorite spot in our neck of the woods

and lots of kisses

and lots of dreaming

and lots of thankfulness.

a computer to do homework on.

the fine ladies who accompanied me to [la].

conversations until almost four in the morning.

friends friends friends.

new church family.

*long brown skirts like this.

*i finally bought one (sans pockets). and love it.

from a hole

today will be good.

i've decided that much already.

yesterday i gave up on getting dressed and going out but i still ended up having quite a good day. snacking with the family and the feller after church. reading reading reading. mom's soup. vegetables and warm broth. chicken salad sandwiches. more reading. some naptime (duh, have you looked outside? it's perfect nap weather). and more reading with intermittent ice cream breaks. and before the feller left, conversation. good conversation.

yesterday, even after insecurity had its way with me i was able to emerge slowly in the midst of those i love, because of those i love - who remind me who i am.

this morning, i am thankful for the emergence that happens every so often from a hole that has many names (fear, self-loathing, etc.).

i am thankful that He rescues me because He delights in me, that He brings me out into a spacious place (think psalm 18). i am thankful that i had the courage, with the prompting of others, to cooperate with Him and not resist His rescue - yesterday and eight months ago.

so today, this blog is everywhere. but that's because i have to leave in two minutes.

cheers to rainy days.

cheers to wearing two leggings and two pairs of socks because i am cold.

cheers to having six classes today.

cheers to looking forward to things (like dinner with the feller).

joy!

*

today i am thankful for

waking up periodically through the night,

conscious enough to identify the sound of water plummeting earth

sleeping in until 8:30 am**

the quiet light of rainy mornings

the inevitable grey of the sky

orange juice

lounge clothes

a fireplace

a pile of books (read: homework)

the family

the feller,

whom will come with his own pile of books (read: homework)

and for a new way of thinking about things,

which will be shared soon enough.

also, i have no reason to leave the house today.

joy!

*i wish i had the balls (yes, i said it) to be outside in the cold at the beach. but i don't. i am always always cold.

**with classes at 8 am (20-40 min from home, depending on traffic) and work at 6:45 am (much much closer), 8:30 am is a luxury only to be afforded on saturday mornings, and sometimes on sundays.

ruined for love

the holidays were wonderful in my corner of the world.

there was an easiness about them. and a fullness.

and there was joy.

i am so lucky to see those i love as frequently as i do.

and the thing is, it takes planning and excitement from both parties. ahem, from you and me. and finally (miracle of miracles!*), i have people in my life that share the same sentiments about me that i do of them. finally, i am not the only one figuring out dates and places and activities. i am surrounded by good people who desire me in their life. and instead of rejecting their love, as i have conditioned myself to do - often on assumptions that they don't really want to share food and a couch and a sidewalk with yours truly - i am accepting it. saying yes to love. and saying no to the assumption that i will, at all times, never belong. the business of choosing rightly is arduous. you see, i am suspicious of love and skeptical of people. i cannnot easily rely on the integrity of others; few people hold my confidence. this has always guided my interactions - this underlying belief that people will pull the rug from under my feet - that they will leave in hopes of greener pastures (or, in my case, in hopes of becoming acquainted with a more [insert any adjective such as sexy, funny, etc.] individual). ah, the painful sting of betrayal. it is the culprit. well, it is one at least. i have suffered the violence of half-truths and omission. and having suffered, find myself unconvinced by earnest pledges of love and friendship. all this i have dramatized and written about, spoken about, sobbed about. this is not to say that the dramatization of my pain forfeits the realness of it all. and this vivid (and sometimes, i must admit, theatrical) representation of my history with betrayal has fed all the assumptions listed above, perpetuating my wariness of all interpersonal relationships.

but i am not ruined for love.

and i will not (choosing against my natural inclinations) crucify you for the acts of others.

and because of this promise to you, i will not play detective: sniffing out nuances in your language, dusting through the commentary and stories of others, researching your whereabouts.

all of these, i have done.

all of these, i have done obsessively.

but i am through with anxiously reaching for information with the expectation that i will be disappointed in you, whoever you may be. being beguiled has filed down my faith in others, that is certain.

however,

this is changing.

because what is also certain is that being confronted with the brilliantly steadfast love and friendship of a few (and saying yes to this all) is changing me.

the holidays were good.

candy cane lane. old christmas movies. shopping. babysitting. making gifts and cards. christmas tree decorating. christmas light viewing (wow!). starbucks. gingerbread house. third annual christmas dinner. the engagement of close friends. gift exchanges. appetizer contest. san diego. twenty-six pound turkey. gift returns and store credit. mao. redbox. pizza and the office and talks into the night.

late nights. early mornings (except that one day i slept until one... pm).

friends (new and old). family. the feller.

and this life - the life i am living, my life, the only one i am responsible for - is terrifically multifaceted and colorful.

today - as i have been for the past eight or nine days - i am thankful for this life. and for the change that is happening in me.

*saying this reminds of a beautiful poem, written by antonio machado.

read it here.

yes,

i have nothing wonderful to say tonight.

but sometimes, it's good to write anyways.

i just recently (two wednesdays ago) finished my last fall semester of my undergraduate career. i participated in my last christmas concert with that particular choir. i finished my last set of required recitals. there were a lot of "lasts." and it feels good to be done with them. and to know that this time around, because of a much freer schedule and freer me i was able to fully enjoy them all. i was able to lead and be led. and help clean up. and finish all my classes extremely well (having read all my material, no skimming. not one page.).

yesterday i got a new internship at a church much different than the last. and i am so excited. i will be so much more well rounded because of this. yesterday i had warm beverages (i.e. hot chocolate because i refuse coffee) with an old friend. an old "bosom buddy," as we would joke. she is beautiful. and for so long i felt we would never be friends again if i didn't undergo the changes that i have this past year. but i did undergo those changes. and there we were, catching up. reconnecting. planning to hang out next week. yesterday i got dressed up (boots, leggings, high waisted shorts, lacey shirt, pea coat, ribbon in hair, etc.) to hang out with the feller. we had so much to talk about. to talk through. and i am glad we are able to be there for each other. to bolster one another up. to be tender and kind. to be compassionate. to allow room for frustration (with life, with God, with friends, with fears) and to allow room for hopelessness. and to exhibit, to personify hope to one another.* we meant to go to a street lit up like candy canes in one of our favorite neighborhoods and then head to my house to watch a christmas story, but the conversation was too good. as were the kisses. and the tears. and the laughter. it was all too good. however, when we were done we drove through the half lit up street (it being late and electricity bills being high) and he drove me home. and we talked in the street. under yellow light. i love him in yellow light. and then we said goodnight.

yesterday was a good day.

today was too.

unexpected staff christmas breakfast (someone got my shift covered!).

crafts and movies and coversations with alexis.

work with wonderful people and children.

yes, life is good.

i am very short on money.

transfering from my savings to my checkings kind of short on money.

but life is good.

and there is so much to be thankful for.

*i remember when this meant trying to be someone's savior. trying to fix them. trying to change them because you needed them. because you thought you would suffocate without them. i am glad to say that it doesn't mean that anymore. it comes from a free place. and it is so good.

on the inside.

thanksgiving was wonderful.

it is too much to describe.

but there was

time at the park with the feller and the nephews before everyone arrived.

jungle gym. slides. swings. football.

food. glorious food.

far too much food.

ham. mashed potatoes. carrots. pea salad. turkey. rolls. potato/cheese/unfrosted flakes/sour cream goodness. many cheeses mac n' cheese with bacon. cranberry sauce. stuffing. pumpkin pie. apple pie.

an unfitting dessert contest. unfitting because thanksgiving is about savory, creamy, warm foods. not decadent, luxurious chocolate. six entries. six chocolate entries. cake. pie. cookies. you name it. an unlikely winner. but not really because as much as mikey gets down on himself for not being all that great - we all know he really is that great.

seventeen people total.

new additions. additions that surprise us all. little children. (this means coloring and toys and paint and a reminder to be playful always.)

i love my family. we are loud. we are fun. we are crazy. and they are so worth sticking around for. they are worth my investment. and the way the feller interacts with them reminds me of this. to not escape the craziness of my family by becoming so preoccupied with my own life. oh yes, they are worth my time and appreciation.

and when everything wound down it was time to leave. and share thanksgiving with the feller's family. a car ride with tension. of course. some arguing and laughter. figuring things out. which is not about being right or wrong but learning eachother. i want to learn this young man and know the details. i want him to learn me and know the details.

a fancy home. fancy plates. white, square. less food. (not that i needed more). candles, glass tables, expensive decor the little one couldn't run around. a fire place. my head being scratched. step-grandparents who live luxuriously. the feller says it comes with age - their taste, that is. the view was jaw-dropping. san diego lit up. electricity running underneath the sidewalks and streets, running into homes and stores and stoplights. feeling that same electricity on the inside - joy and belonging.

driving home. the feller drinking a rockstar as i shook my head. we talked. it is good to share life with him. and play the "guess what?" game. it is my favorite. i never want to not play it. (i love double negatives.) i fell asleep and am thankful he didn't wake me.

and at the end of the day, tired.

coming home to family still at the table and in the living room.

but too tired to hang out much longer, knowing i would be sucked into staying up until four like the rest of them.

with thanks in my heart i went upstairs and slept.

as admitted by

i wear my boyfriends clothes.
and they look better on me.*

i am so down with shopping in the men's section.
and pairing said pieces with feminine ones.


today i am thankful for...

his good taste.
his strong opinions.
his eloquent speech.
his adventurous spirit.
the times he thinks he is funny.
the times he "lets me" borrow his clothes.

*as admitted by the feller himself
(including friends, strangers, family... the list goes on.)

rich.

today was rich.

rain.

rain.

rain.

choir concert. early but rested. two services. power outage. singing, still.

almost done painted living room. mom and dad (out of the bedroom and not watching tv). mikey and carolyn. working together. painting. laughing. (yesterday was a lot like this too. it's good to feel togetherness.)

sisters acting like sisters. the oldest standing up for me. and defending me. the other, always a joy. advice. more than a sister, a friend. brother-in-law and nephew and the feller playing modern warfare three (because they can).

belated burgers for moms birthday. laughs. so much joy. she's vibrant.

mini naps because i'm tired.

the feller and i doing homework. kisses. squeezes. being silly. we are professionals at this. bugging eachother on purpose. for the fun of it. because we take it light heartedly. doing homework. and succeeding! understanding eachother. learning eachother. him being close and a part. him fitting into this crazy crazy family.

me, being thankful. thankful.

and better at not fighting for my preferences, way, and "rights."

selflessness. consideration for others.

this is what living is like.

i feel like i'm living for the first time in a long while.

it is so so good.

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.

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.

uprising of unbelief.

as of late, the past two weeks or so, i have been feeling the effects of old wounds, deep wounds. the result of which has been this post. who i am has largely been defined by who i am not (or who i have supposed myself not to be). the list is as follows: i am not beautiful. i am not worth love - pure, selfless, protecting, persevering love. i am not worth faithfulness. i am not worth truth. i am not a good singer. i am not as smart or successful as i should be. i am not the kind of person people are drawn to. i am not a good leader.

lies, all of them.
lies, which are the products of hurt.
lies, which can be easily stirred. (and believed).

i have spent many moments redirecting my thoughts from lies to truth. it is a vexing business, accepting the truth when all you want to do is shake your head at it, salty rivers at the corners of your eyes, unbelief burning in your throat.

tuesday evening on my indian red front porch and in the sun and shadows of dusk i sat with a friend i never planned on having. and after sharing the details of a new school year, new jobs, and stories about daily occurrences i pondered disclosing this uprising of unbelief. she knows my story well enough. she has sat with me in dark places. and listened generously. she has placed her hand on my knee, exhibiting one of the most tender display of empathy i have experienced, as i sobbed. she has been there. and poured courage into me. i am thankful for the gift she is. i never planned on knowing her. what a wonderful surprise. as we stood in silence for a moment, i wondered if my story would make her late to her previous engagement or if she would ever get sick of hearing about my journey. but assured that she loved me, i pushed forward.

i am over feeling this way.
i want to come out of this.
i am ready to come out of this.

you see, wounds have a way of making themselves known.
my brokenness, the parts of me that are still in shambles, will show.
every tear

cut

puncture

trauma

will affect how i understand and treat myself and you.

and upon seeing a picture or two, upon seeing the change and progress (if one can call it that) in the lives of another, the wounds and the lies that those wounds produce in me made. themselves. known. there i was driving or eating or holding conversation with friends and simultaneously being confronted with pain. entangled. overwhelmed. snared. distressed. for two weeks. unceasing anxiety. even in prayer. even in song.

this is what i shared through vehement tears:
the frustration at still being affected by wounds.
the difficulty of knowing the truth and not being able to believe it.

and as i finished, two ladies and a young girl walked up my steps asking if either of us needed prayer. i must interject here that i do not believe in coincidence. i do not explain away miracles. i do not use my smarts or my skepticism to deduce the goodness of God to mere happenstance. the combination of receiving ministry rather than giving it and the exactness of their prayers (how they lined up with my own, word-for-word) left me in awe. a wonder i have not felt in a very long time.

He is so good.

He is so loving.

i am fascinated by the God i serve. the One who goes out of His way to make His kindness known. the One who rescues me because He delights in me. the One who vows to be my refuge, my rock, my fortress... and delivers on His promises. for His attentiveness to my cries and especially for His powerful, detailed response, i am thankful. filled with gratitude for His ways and character.

i am thankful for a very real and significant encounter but i, knowing this experience must be walked out daily, am even more thankful for His grace and strength to continue to serve Him and love Him rightly.