maybe he will.

dear girl i was avoiding,

last night we spoke.

you took the initiative and that makes me respect you.

about two hours before we spoke i was filled with anxiety. rushes of distress made me physically uncomfortable in class. my stomach began to twist itself in knots, the kind of tension that only voice recitals give me. i could not focus on my professors stories. i was apprhensive. i was full of angst. because i have known you through the years. and we have confided in eachother over time. definitely not best friends, but enough to share the deep hard stuff if we wanted. and now things are different. and the circumstances under which we would speak were unforeseeable seven years ago.

it was all so bizarre.

i had practiced what i would say. i played out conversations in my head. questions you might ask, how i would answer.

and the most curious thing was the trust in your voice, the security in your eyes. you trust him fully. you have a peace about this all, about his character and you did not ask one single question about the past. it was as if you didn't need to. you were sure things wouldn't pan out the way they did before. i could not fathom it. how could you be so sure? why weren't you reaching for information? he will not tell you. you will never know the extent of his wandering. i cautioned you. no details. just don't be so trusting. don't be naive. ask about hard things. if there is no commitment, there is a reason. and i told you the truth about yourself. you are beautiful. you are beloved. you are worth faithfulness. you are worth honesty.

there was a time when i was just as believing as you were, just as hopeful. my certainty and confidence were dashed. completely. i could never speak so surely about this man that has charmed you like he had charmed me.

but maybe it is your belief in him that will help him make better decisions. maybe your faith in him, maybe the audacity of your trust will move him to live in the light and stay there.

i used to be afraid of freedom. of walking away and living my life separate from his.

but if you are a means by which the Father restores him, i am thankful.

because we all need restoration. even those who have hurt us.

because we are all broken and need someone to believe in us and root for us.

i want to believe he will tell you. but i can't.

i think this means that part of me believes people cannot change or maybe my experience has taught me that patterns are terribly hard to break. but they are harder to break when hidden.

i want to believe he will tell you everything. maybe he will.

either way, it's not my business. it is not my life anymore.

i have no right worrying about it.

it has no right renting space in my head.

anyways, i am glad i don't have to avoid you.

and that saying hello isn't awkward.

sincerely,

a girl who is baffled by the conviction (or is it foolishness?) in your smile.

the implications

dear girl who i have been avoiding,

we could have been friends, you know? if things did not turn out the way they have i might be grabbing lunch with you tomorrow.

i think you are a beautiful person. truly, i do. but i think you are naive jumping into this all so blindly. (not that you would have any way of knowing, some things have been hidden so well and for so long.) and it pains me to see you because you remind me of wounds. wounds. and it grieves me to see you because you are worth more. because you, like so many girls before you, deserve to know the truth. and i cannot tell you unless you ask. do you understand that? it is not my job to expose or uncover. because what is done in darkness will be brought into light. that is not my job.

if you ask for the truth, i will give it to you. but i will not go out of my way and make it my business to tell you what i have learned over the years.

i am not sure you will ever ask. people rarely want to know the truth. especially if it is opposite, contradictory to what they already believe.

i hope things are different for you.

i used to be you, or rather in your shoes.

you should remember it.

you were there on the outside when it all started and when it all ended.

isn't that strange?

it is for me.

even though i am happy with my lot in life, it is.

i hope you are not hurt or deceived.

i hope you are treated well, loved well.

i wish you no ill.

i wish you only the truth, and the courage to explore the implications of the truth.

sincerely,

the girl who keeps avoiding you but secretly wants to bump into you to let it all spill out.

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.

to enable us

"O God, our Father, we remember at this time... how the eternal Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

We thank you that Jesus took our human body upon him, so that we can never again dare to despise or neglect or misuse the body, since you made it your dwelling-place.

We thank you that Jesus did a day's work like any working-man, that he knew the problem of living together in a family, that he knew the frustration and irritation of serving the public, that he had to earn a living, and to face all the wearing routine of everyday work and life and living, and so clothed each common task with glory.

We thank you that he shared in all happy social occassions, that he was at home at weddings and at dinners and at festivals in the homes of simple ordinary people like ourselves. Grant that we may ever remember that in his unseen risen presence he is a guest in every home.

We thank you that he knew what freindship means, that he had his own circle of men whom he wanted to be with him, that he knew too what it means to be let down, to suffer from disloyalty and from the failure of love.

We thank you that he too had to bear unfair criticism, prejudiced opposition, malicious and deliberate misunderstanding.

We thank you that whatever happens to us, he has been there before, and that, because he himself has gone through things, he is able to help those who are going through them.

Help us never to forget that he knows life, because he lived life, and that he is with us at all times to enable us to live victoriously.

This we ask for your love's sake. Amen."

william barclay

prayers for the christian year

orchestrate

thankful for

words of life and assurance

from a dear friend,

from two strangers and the little girl with them,

from my mother,

from my father.

a God who is deeply concerned with my life,

who will orchestrate the most unlikely occurances

just to show me He cares.

a smart movie.

yesterday i saw this movie with my feller.

it was such a smart movie.

it's characters playful and witty with language.

it's truthfulness - the sting of loss and joy of love - refreshing.

the lighting was perfect. the casting was perfect.

i laughed and tried to remember quotes.

it made me want to read the book so badly.

being strong with joy.

recent circumstances have challenged me to excavate and explore the vicious, constricting thing we call insecurity.

here is my working thesis on the beauty of the self.

ahem. the beauty of myself.

doesn't that sound wonderful?

(indulge me, please?)

i promise the actual thesis itself is not impressive.

and is far from an actual thesis.

it is more of a ramble. stream of consciousness stuff, you know.

i have some idea of what beauty is, some faint insight into what it means to call something beautiful but i have never known myself to be beautiful (on a consistent basis) apart from physical intimacy which objectifies me and at times the other. i have never known myself to be beautiful (on a consistent basis) unless i was being devoured by the eyes of hungry men and my hips were pressed against his. what a tragic life to lead. what a wretched way to waste one's youth. it may certainly be an exaggeration, but it is not far from the truth. not at all.

we are up for grabs.

and what most are grabbing has nothing to do with personality, intelligence, grace, integrity, gentleness, elegance, etc.

we are up for grabs.

and we allow this.

i allowed it.

i allowed another -

not just one person but many -

to transform my vision of beauty.

to the subjective and fleeting.

all flesh is grass fading away,

only You last.

only You remain.

reference:

1 peter 1:24-25

isaiah 40:6-8

and i know it is not profound or new to say that the media shaped how i understood beauty, but it has and did so at such a young age. i inextricably linked beauty, the shifting standards of culture, with worth. if i did not meet or follow the pervasive, unfair and twisted code that says one is only beautiful when one is perfect, when one is sexy then i was worthless, unwanted. i believed people would not want to know me, that people would leave if i did not adhere to this code, if i did not embody the pinnacle of this. i wanted to be the most beautiful to hold the attention of others. desperate for someone to stick around long enough to notice my worth. to speak worth over me with their actions. and i would prove i was worth something even if it meant allowing myself to be disrespected and lied to. enter competition. enter false perceptions of reality. enter disillusionment. enter comparison. might i add, comparison to the unattainable, which can only lead to disappointment. mix in betrayal and the subtle deteriorating significance of phrases like "you are beautiful" and "i love you" and you have got one seriously toxic tonic.

for years i exchanged the truth of God for a lie.

sometimes i still do.

most of the time i am not sure how to combat the lies, how to take every thought captive. it is hard work and requires perseverance. oh, how i've learned about that - perseverance.

i fight with laughter and sillinesss. it is not escape through playful diversions or a repression of unhealthy feelings. it is me, resurfacing. being strong with joy.

do not grieve,

for the joy of the LORD is your strength.

nehemiah 8:10b

i fight with conversation that points to the truth. i am begining to know myself to be beautiful as i walk out my life with those who love me.

no man is an island.

john donne

and in the resurfacing, especially in safe places, perfect love is casting out fear and self-loathing.

there you go.

shorter and not all-encompassing at all.

but it is what i have.

and i will hold onto it until the truth of my beauty,

my belovedness,

of His love for me

becomes a reality i walk in.

leap in.

dance in.

rejoice in.

consistently.

and knowing.

thankful for

days when i am most myself

and less controlled by the opinions of others.

[you know, when you take the liberty of carrying on a conversation with others (in your head, of course), which always leaves you as feeling less. or when you get ahead of yourself and use the incredible gift of imagination to make conjectures about what they think as opposed to what they say. here i often infer, quite irrationally, that they are sizing me up, calling my bluff, analyzing my language, appearance, and disapproving. always, disapproving. people are tricky and i am skeptical of them. but they aren't as interested in me as i suppose. at least, they aren't absorbed in sifting through my faults. (in other words, they aren't as consumed by critiquing myself as i am.) and what is so self-revealing about those above mentioned internal dialogues is that they are all about managing an image of myself, an impression of who i am or who i am not...

rather than being gracious to myself - the yet to be untangled mess of weakness and strength that i am - and with much bravery and strength stop comparing who i am to others. ]

here.

it is wonderful, becoming oneself.

and knowing with

certainty that cannot be tossed easily like the waves of the sea

that i am beautiful and beloved.

precisely who He intended me to be.

not mine to allocate

give me my mornings and i will love you well. all i ask for is an hour. without the sighs and cracks and morning stories and voices of others. these all will serve as an annoyance as i wake and walk. know that i need this hour above all else to warm to life, to pull back the curtains and blinds window by window, door by door. it is sacred, the sounds of heavy curtain fabric gathering and thin plastic blinds tapping. click. click. tap. like crackling incense. these traditions are my hello to the world. the sensations of morning beg my devotion. wood floor, frigid from the night, kiss my feet and cool my body. the railing on the stairs, chipped paint and all, greets my hands that are too wrinkled in a similar fashion. an empty house is ideal for such tradition but if you are there, you will be peripheral to the movements and motions of my morning.

give me my mornings to pull a small handful of almonds sans shell, smooth and pale on the inside, from the water-stained glass container with orange trimming on the kitchen counter. the outer layer, brown with many grooves like unsanded bark, will soon get stuck in my molars. the only cure for such a predicament is watered down orange mango juice that is too sweet on its own and an uncut banana. cold. hard. mushy. textural juxtapositioning.

and even though time is not mine to allocate, give me my mornings.

and if you cannot give me my mornings give me my nights.

one day, some day my request for alonedom may change.

but if it does not.

be gracious. and honor small petitions for silence.

dumbledore

leave it to dumbledore.

wrestled my own snugness

press play.

it was morning. and though i was mindful of the morning and its call to lift the covers and stretch my well-rested body, i lay in bed. underneath a watercolor comforter. above white sheets and a blanket soft as sleep. above a matress that creeks like damaged floor boards - the kind that creek louder when you are alone and the sun has set and you have watched too much csi to ignore fear of the highly improbable - and while it is not always comfortable, it is my bed. and how fortunate i am to have a bed.

it was morning. and i lay in bed because my day was relatively unscheduled, the time i rolled out of bed insignificant. i lay in bed well-situated between dreams and conciousness, snug. i lay in bed aware of a familiar sound. unsure of where to place this sound, being between sleep and awake, i wrestled my own snugness and opened my eyes. the sound kept sounding. soft splashing. on leaves. on roofs. sheets of rain. in july. i pulled back one of my curtains, forgetting to tie it back with yellow ribbon, surprised by the spontaneity of rain, by its outright disruption of clear skies. i slid my window open enough to rest my forearms on the window sill.

it was morning. and i could smell the rain. i could appreciate its albiet unexpected arrival. it was not cold. the heat of summer would not retreat so easily. it reminded me of costa rica. of the drive from one school to another. and the sheer pleasure of sticking my head out the window. the warm rain on my tan face and in my soiled hair. the wonder. the whole earth is full of Your glory.

it was morning. and in my room i experienced wonder again.

, you know?

last week i had words. and i spoke them. and shared them.

i let them bounce on the inside of me. fill me.

beautiful words and expressions.

but i did not write them. though i wanted to.

tonight i have no words.

except that i waste too much time.

and that it is hard to live a well-ordered life.

i must make it a point to write words when i have them, you know?

even the weakest of attempts matter. the smallest of efforts.

so i will publish posts that are meek.

i will write when the words are malnourished, anemic, barely there.

shadow words.

words like shells without substance.

because i am learning the power of doing.

of following through.

in smallsmallsmall ways.

in weakweakweak ways.

free to let go

i don't need to hold on anymore.

what? really?

that means this change is real.

and the past is the past.

and memories are memories.

good. bad. beautiful. ugly.

memories.

and goodbye is goodbye.

i don't need to hold on anymore.

this statement gives me permission to leave.

and all i needed was a nudge.

an okay.

to stop looking back anxiously.

to stop reaching back apprehensively.

this statement changes things.

and i have to remind myself of it.

i am free to let go.

trying.

i am sure.

and so unsure.

i am courageous.

and so afraid.

i am trying to understand the years.

i am trying to make sense of them.

i am trying to see things as they were.

not just as i wished or thought.

i am trying to see things as they were.

and am finding that we knew better.

but we didn't.

we offered what we had.

it was broken. it was desperate.

it was the product of loneliness and needing to be loved.

and so many other things.

horrible things.

smell. skin. taste. skin. feel. skin.

none of this was intimacy.

because nearness is more than skin and heavy breathing.

it was the only way we knew how to hold on.

and oh, we held on.

it was the only way we knew how to love.

i think.

how difficult this is to explain.

to come to terms with.

it makes me so so so sad.

i am telling the truth.

i am telling the truth

knowing it will lead me far from you.

get acquainted

one of the greatest moments in anybody's developing expeirience is when he no longer tries to hide from himself but determines to get acquainted with himself as he really is.

norman vincent peale.

poison is poison.

last night i sat in the heaviness of it all.

with a friend.

and we talked and cried. about the past few years. years, can you believe it? can you believe how long we drag things on? with hope. with desperation. because we need life to be a certain way to function. i can't really articulate this all. we fool ourselves. convince ourselves that life really is okay. that we are okay with all that has happened. (how can any of what had happened have been okay?) and if we can just hold onto some things for just a bit longer we can fix them. we can ask questions and people will change. miraculously. but i cannot change you or fix you. we are all broken. we are all lost. we all do things we don't want to do. we all don't do things we want to do. when we try and do good, evil is right by our side. persuading us. rationalizing wrongdoing. poison is honey. sweet. thick. and when we are choking. sputtering blood. half-alive. hyperventaliting. we realize poison is poison. and sin leads to death. years.

but i know now, this very moment, that i want life.

i want to live, really live.

wounds are deep.

oh, they are deep.

ties are strong.

strong, but killing us.

but i have the opportunity to live.

to explore the height and depth of life.

this morning i am awakened by the courage to live.

and as impossible as it all felt yesterday.

this morning, and in the heaviness of last night,

i know it is possible.

knee deep

i am strong.

i am strong.

i am stronger than i think or know.

that is what she said.

that is what she prayed.

that is what she spoke over me.

she is not the only one.

and i see myself as weak. so weak.

a mouse not a lion.

and i see everything around me as so impossible.

this all feels impossible.

it feels like crap.

like i am knee deep in defacation.

gosh, what a horrible image.

wandering wandering.

circling about.

familiar sounds.

steady now.

truth ignored.

strange alien foreign.

shut up.

go away.

turning.

indulge.

war. waging it.

against

myself.

against

you.

against

the world.

fight fight fight.

not what i want.

hate truth.

conflicting realities.

struggle.

mess.

winding paths.

our writhing hearts: the wailing dark.

far from where i was sitting.

yesterday was hard. fun, beautiful, teary.... hard.

it was a wedding. downtime. a reception.

two realities crashing into eachother.

one seemed better than the other.

home was far from where i was sitting.

because home was with you. and others.

it was across the aisle. it was on the dancefloor.

it was in the photobooth.

but i had said goodbye to home nineteen days ago.

hard.

today i am sad and i want to control things.

i want to choose other than what i know is right.

i want to take back every promise.

and i want things to be different.

not as they were. but as i always wished them to be.

because my wishes seem so much better than reality.

today i am reminded of my weakness and His strength.

i am convinced that i need Him.

i am sure that becoming like Him means tears, suffering, loss, etc. etc. etc.

today i understand that we are separate people living separate lives

more than i did nineteen days ago.

we are men and women with lives apart, severed.

we are men and women with ties broken.

and even though we both wish wish wish things could be different.

i know that this is better.

if not for you, for me.

but i pray it is better for you soon.

and i pray it will make sense - for both of us.

today i can't get over how plans and wishes can be shattered.

and i don't know how to deal with all of the shards, all of the pieces.

and my heart still aches some.

today i am not afraid.

i am baffled.

i am far from home.

i am sad and i want to control things.

stoked.

this evening i will enjoy the civil wars.

stoked.

abba, father.

For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God.

For you did not reveice a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father." The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs - heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings, we may also share in his glory.

romans 8:14-17

here

truth:

you are father.

i am your dear dear daughter.

and in you i have a beautiful inheritance with your son.

both suffering and glory.

and in you i have no reason to fear.

more than a life of comfort, i ask for a heart that is transformed by you.

yup.

it starts with truth.

it starts with light.

for admiting it so recklessly.

there are so many good things happening.

the discovering of myself and of others. letting people in. understanding that i do have friends if i make time for them. they want in. i need to let them in. fun times at plays. at lunch. at dinner. on the couch. watching without a trace. even though my dad gets mad that the dvr is 46% full of them. reading a book for book club. laughing unrestrained. crying unrestrained, mostly with people. it's harder to cry by myself. it never used to be this way. but more recently it has been. i don't know what this means. but my heart is aching.

we are separate people living separate lives now.

and even though there are good good things happening. friday night was filled with me missing you. and places. and the plans we had. i will never dance that dance holding your hand or smelling your shampoo that i think smells weird. and i can't describe the realness. the rawness. how it overcame me. how it filled every cell. how i could explode with longing. how i wanted to say something. but shouldn't and didn't and won't. mostly because i said i wouldn't. because i have to learn how to keep my word. always. yes be yes. no be no. i cannot confuse things. i cannot reentangle myself. even though i am desperate with yearning. friday. yesterday. today. you are the funniest man in the world and i miss the way i laugh with you. a laugh uncontrollable. a smile inconceivable. i miss it desperately. desperately. i miss the understanding. i miss the confidence. i miss the frozen pizzas. i miss round eyes and big teeth. i miss knowing you will always respond. i miss always being together. even though it means that we were unhealthy. unhealthy for so long. so long. even though it means that we did not know who we were without eachother. i miss security. even though trust was broken many times. even though i had reason to be insecure. i was always secure. because you were my safe place. i miss car fresheners and talking about jesus. i miss worshipping with you. connection. knowing without saying. leading eachother. mutual submission. trusting eachother up there. releasing each other up there. planning and unity. i miss seeing you grow. i love seeing you grow and discovering gifts. i miss encouraging you and telling you it's going to be okay. i miss having a place with you. always having a place with you. i do i do i do. and part of me feels horrible for this. for even typing it. for admiting it so recklessly. but it is so true. and sometimes writing it, more specifically typing it, is the only way i can make myself feel. is the way i can make what is being repressed surface.

it pries open the cellars of my heart.

the basements with secrets and pain and wounds that are too deep.

far deeper than we know they are.

last night it took an hour and a half of restlessness to fall asleep. it took putting my head where the feet go. it took reciting words over and over in my head. knowing they are true.

He is kind. and in His kindness He has brought me to this place, this aching place of desperation. i have to trust this. if i believe He is kind and good and true - the truest realest person i could ever know- then i must trust. i must call to mind His tender mercies. i must remember remember His faithfulness. His deep deep love. even though lately i have not felt anything. not one drip of it. i want more than knowledge, i want experience. i want a knowing.

it feels good to cry. to feel. to lean into the sorrow and the loss. as well as the good good things that are happening. even if it means i need to do my makeup again.

i can't do anything about this desire. this eagerness to be with you.

i wonder if it will ever go away. i wonder if a few months from now i will feel this. i wonder if i will ever see you again after friends have weddings and events cause us to haphazardly bump into eachother. i want to see you whole. healed. delivered. free. i do i do i do. i wish i could help with it. but i can't. instead i am trusting you to the One who can. the only One who can. sometimes i get afraid you won't run to Him. that you will run to other things. things that are destructive. things that sabatoge intimacy with yourself, others, and Him. i release you to the One who is strong. who is enough.

i know that the decisions that have been made are right. are the right ones.

but they hurt. this all hurts.

hallelujah, come.

everything about this song is perfect.

it fills a space.

on repeat.

i love that it is led by both a male and a female. unexpected. beautiful. ebb and flow.

i thoroughly enjoy worship songs that integrate scripture or obvious themes from scripture in them. the word of God fuels the song, drives the song. we are lifting up words written by others and sung by others, thousands of years before our parents planned us (or didn't).

steffany frizzel, your vibrato - the gentle spinning in your voice - and slight scooping here and there carries weight. there is a whine, a soft cry between your words. it is not thin. it is natural. it is almost as if it could arise from the silence without distracting anyone. like a bird. that kind of natural.

jeremy riddle, there is sweetness in all of this. a sweet reverence and desperation. thank you for writing this song. thank you for joining the team at bethel.

today, i will not run.

today, i will seek.

when You said, "seek my face,"

my heart said to You, "Your face, O LORD, I shall seek."

psalm 27:8

fascinating.

thankful for

china, because they were the first ones to use kites.

they used them in war.

at least, that is what answers.com says.

and now i can use them with friends.

fascinating.

me, getting fancy flying kites.

bubbles and dogs.

lounging in the sun.

waterballoons for a game.

some beach time.

and this lady.

i am thankful for

the above lady.

and friendship.

honesty, vulnerability, laughter.

as to not forget

if i do not write things down, it is inevitable that i will forget them.

but when you write things down you remember. and relive.

if you want to remember them just as they were, you write down details.

details that make you leap. and sobb.

i will be writing things down in the next few days, as to not forget

you.

them.

the me that is experiencing this all.

and i write them down so in a month or in a year i can see how God has been working in and through it all. His hand always upon me. His leading evident. His presence there.

because He is here. He is.

like loss

today is june the first.

today feels like loss.

after so much peace.

and crying.

and prayer.

and the smell of anointing oil on my face as i sleep.

today still feels like loss.

that doesn't mean the peace wasn't real. or the prayers are unfulfilled, unheard. it just means that this morning i woke up to a new reality. where we would not talk. not even to say hello or how are you. and i would not see some faces as much as i want. and i would not sit in black chairs three times a week. and i would not have to think about bringing a jacket with me because the air conditioner is blasting. now, i will be pulling into new parking lots. meeting new people. cultivating friendships i never could yesterday. because of entanglement and control and insecurity. but i can do this all today. i can do this because i said yes to change and freedom and discovering myself and Him.

there is loss, yes.

some days will be worse than others, yes.

but some days will be good and full.

i am not looking forward to either right now...

they both mean change has taken place.

and today, june the first, this very moment, i am not sure about much.

i shake my head at change.

many things seem daunting, i am afraid.

untangled

yesterday i flew kites. mine cost twelve dollars. an investment. it has two tails. one yellow, one orange. and looks like a prism of color. a rainbow. a promise.

and was mezmerized by how, once caught up by a current of wind, they were weightless.

they were suspended in the air. the only thing keeping them from flying away was the string - taut between my fingers. it was a beautiful day. and i have no words to convey my thankfulness for the people that were there. the calm that was bittersweet. knowing all will be okay, doesn't mean it will be how you expected. and with that, there is always some loss. some emptiness. some sadness. and goodbyes to people and places.

how unfortunate that paths must part.

how unfortunate that some things can only be untangled by distance and silence.

how unfortunate that this is all so indefinite. but final.

listening

i've been listening to this for the past five to six months.

what reassurance. what refreshment.

i love to turn off everything. to feel the quiet on the inside.

and begin to fill it with truth.

daycare kids.

dear children-who-i-will-send-off-to-school-one-day,

psst.

i have my first real job since fall of senior year in high school. and i work with children. daycare kids. you might be one. i was one. waiting for grandma to show up as i make bracelets and play mancala. ahem. beat everyone at mancala.

i've actually had this job for nine months now and i love these children. even when they have attitude and would rather watch Matilda for the hundreth time than make crafts or build towers out of legos. we play freeze tag, four corners. Jenga is a hit. so is soccer, now that it is warmer out. so is painting, but the paint is strong and opening the doors for ventilation is a must. snack time consists of dry cereal, chips, pretzels, or popcorn. we've had smores once or twice. and we did have Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies. your grandfather bought sweets all the time. i ate these growing up. you might have never eaten them. i don't want you to eat ice cream three times out of the week. or have Little Debbie snacks at lunchtime. i want to make you food. or try at least. pack you good things. and always give you extras for after school. well, if you stay after school.

i haven't written to you for a while. life has been like a teetertotter.

one day we will talk about change.

and how this particular time in my life required courage.

i have to be brave.

for myself. for others. and as time will tell, for you.

i have to choose life. a different sort of life than i ever imagined.

and it is scary.

but when you are scared. we can be brave together, yes?

sincerely,

a twenty-one year old almost grown-up

heave lashes and eyeliner

this almost-summer sunday afternoon i am filling my airspace with one of my favorite voices.

adele.

rich and thick. soulful. so full.

her voice is

like a recollection penned in the blackest of inks.

like her heavy lashes and eyeliner.

like smooth calligraphy, delicate art.

above a hush, below a cry.

i love listening to the subtle differences in language, the way vowels are formed, the way consonants are not sounded. i love the way voices travel up and down registers. the breaking point between chest and head. and the way a slight whine in a phrase can pull me into that fullness.

thank you adele for writing music. and for singing it so beautifully. thank you for never performing like britney spears did. your voice can stand on its own. its fullness pouring into empty space: sinking into carpet and dripping down walls.

oh, the truth in this.

the passing

the cloudiness, the deep tumultuous storm must soon pass.
crying is the passing of such sadness.
perhaps only to be followed by a sadness closer to ones core. one so enveloping it halts all thinking, all logic.
i've never known such lasting darkness. such complete aimlessness. such unfeeling. such nonpresence.
it is as if the day has been swallowed and along with it the nerve, the courage, the motivation to do, to be.
hollow, hanging above the brink of ones own life.

and the crying and perhaps the laughter which sometimes follows is a reminder of what the sky might look like if it were not so grey.

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today

today the tomb was still sealed.
today people's voice were hoarse -
their flawed accusations and murderous shouts still ringing.
today the city was filled with reminders of you.
the earth fractured. the temple split.
today people had forgotten your promise.
or doubted its validity.
you had died. were wrapped in linen.
and were carefully laid inside a hollowed rock.

today there was no reason to hope.
the king was not much of a king afterall.
he would not save us as we wished.
his plans were grossly misinformed.
and for this, we crucified him.
spit on him.
mocked his lordship.
and could not bring ourselves to believe him at his word.

today the tomb was still sealed.
and we did not know what to do.

i love

i am aware of my lack of posting.

school is out in two weeks (including finals week).

i will be taking summer classes for the first time ever.

le sigh.

tonight i cleaned my room. kind of. it's getting there at least.

i love folding clothes. sorting papers. and the like.

i really love to organize. does that make me a nerd? maybe.

but nerds are hott.

ew that word....

the last three days have been completely restful.

even in the midst of classes. work. meetings. homework.

the eve before those three days i realized at once how overwhelming life can be.

and i cried.

that is also something i love.

the release. the loss of control.

the ability to see my inability.

the rush of certainty that floods my whole person that says

i need You.

i miss You.

You really are my heart's truest desire.

i know You are near.

but it is so very hard for me to draw near too.

especially when i'm tired.

and these past three days have been marked by Your peace.

thanks.

p.s.

my nephew, who lives in the living room. uses my room to practice guitar, violin, keyboard, etc. and absent-mindedly places them on the floor or on my bed. i have almost broken them several times. but i just can't ban him. i can't, though i've considered. (and possibly threatened?) i love to hear him practice. his thirteen year old self enthralled with music. i don't think it's the sort of passion derived from trying to make something out of himself - liking the appearance of being a musician more than the sound that fills space and lives. i love my family.

my mother

my mother is incredibly strong.

bursting with delight.

there is so much to say isn't there.

but tonight i do not want to find perfectly delicious phrases.

i want to craft. and clean.

and listen.

last week i went on choir tour.

what an experience! faces i may never see again. lives intersected for hours at a time.

today i am sick. i've been sick most of the semester. on and off. how annoying. what a pest sickness is. liquids and rest.

soon i will be done with my junior year in college. sometimes people think i am still in high school. i say it will benefit me when i am sixty and look forty. not that i'll care what i look like at that age. there will be - and currently are - more satisfying things in life than a wrinkle-free face.

soon i will be saying goodbye to people and places.

soon i will not be so busy. thrust into a new season defined by trust. bursting with delight. i already feel it infecting my conversation.

life is so precious.

and to be at home, tonight, is so delightful.

just saying.

i have so much to do. just saying.

monday:

school.

midterm.

conducting test.

work.

tuesday:

school.

midterm.

piano performance.

hillsong.

wednesday:

just a really long day.

really long.

thursday:

also a really long day.

school.

voice recital.

midterm.

work.

babysit.

friday:

school.

voice recital.

college group.

what?

let's just say i might call in tomorrow.

not even kidding.

rupturing

this morning i ran.

well, actually i walked and jogged.

i don't recall it completely. because as much as i tried to keep my mind stayed on one thing. any one thing. i couldn't. i struggle with being present, especially to myself, especially when life is shaky. some things i remember though, like the many greens rupturing from hard concrete and thick bark. the dull aches of tiredness and confusion. a woman in pajama pants riding a bike. heat radiating from my body. hundreds of cars filled with busy people whose faces i did not see but whose cars i heard. breathing in frosty air - icicles melting down my throat.

but i did it.

i may have cut through the grass at one point. tips of my adidas doused in morning dew.

but i said i would and i did.

::dance::

i am going to do this again.

look like

formed from dust.

made for glory.

what does that look like?

it begins.

this morning i could not find my keys.

i always lose my keys.

but it lead to a quiet morning.

i anticipate more quiet mornings.

and more quiet nights.

as i tuck myself into the shadow of Your wings.

passion borne not of human zeal or striving.

obedience fueled by love.

weak yes, after weak yes.

immersion in a river wide and deep.

a vastness i have never known.

this is what i anticipate.

i am not sure where my weak yes' will lead.

but right now it is leading to a realignment.

and a desire to hold still in Your presence and hold fast to Your truth.

assured You are not a Father who is turning me away or rejecting me.

did you know this is what i thought before?

i didn't even know i thought this.

but i did. and sometimes i still do.

You are not denying me.

You do not despise me.

i am broken. i am weak.

i have been pushing away Your love and forgiveness. i have been fighting Your grace and mercy. because i cannot accept something i did not earn. something i am not worthy of. i am a hard worker. and know the grade i deserve. i have been punishing myself, i have been disqualifying myself when You have done everything to open wide Your heart for me.

this is where it begins.

this is when it begins.

anchor

i am breathing in hope.

because it is an anchor for my soul.

most favorite class

it has been almost two weeks since i've been on here. i think about blogging. there are many things to write about and share. but one cannot rush a post. :)

i turned twenty-one on the third.

and came across this quote on meg fee's blog:

she was twenty-one, for God's sake. she must be allowed to grow up. by the time they were her age, most of the heroines of literature had lived, loved and even died...if she wanted to be a heroine, it was time to start behaving like one.
...robyn sisman

i must admit that while growing up provides opportunity to step into myself in greater measure, i find myself resisting. this birthday was different. today is different. friendships are not what they were. and i am resisting the reality of the change that has taken place.

i doubt i was ready for this. and as i sit in my most favorite class, i cannot help but reevaluate my movement towards this change. again. and again. not because it isn't good or beautiful. but because it is different. and requires development. and talking. and crying. lots of crying. and maybe even a complete shift in my involvement with places and people. i have been here, in this place for a while. i am adhering to my own desires, refusing to be moved. i am stubborn. and confused. and scared.

this could be self-sabotage.

and while it all seems very dramatic. (and it may be.)

it is oh so real.

avoiding

i am avoiding writing a reflective book response.

i have been for two hours.

not because i don't like the book. it was challenging. it was illuminating.

i am just not in the mood to write a paper.

thursday is my birthday. my twenty-first birthday.

and i still have school. an exam. and a performance test (piano).

and i still have work. the ones available to cover cannot.

i wish it were warmer outside. and the air were thicker. not so cough-inducing, because i still have a cough. i would sit outside. and maybe i would fall asleep.

how do we process all that we need to when we have papers to write?

time to write.

then sleep.

patient.

He is making me aware of areas i need to work on.

which means, i now have the responsibility to work on these areas.

but i don't want to.

oh well. He's here.

with me. patient.

He won't relent until He has all of me.

He is a jealous God. but He won't push Himself on us either.

so He waits.

as we distract ourselves and are stubborn. and are too broken to let go.

and are too scared to sit still.

i see myself in a field. playing with grass. unable to look into His eyes. fidgeting with plants. tying them together. pulling them out of their earthy homes. digging my fingers into the hill i sit on. but i see Him sitting there. waiting. silent. eyes that burn with love. passionate. they scare me. it scares me to be so loved. to be so unclothed and hideous. and beautiful. but dangerously self-destructive. in small ways. in quiet ways. He is looking on me. not turning His eyes to the left or to the right. He is looking at me. endlessly patient. but grieving my choice to hold on with white knuckles to my ways and thoughts. He waits for me to trust His transformative goodness. but it hurts to be made free. this i am sure of. but His love is sustaining. and healing. and sufficient. He is El-Shaddai. the one who is sufficient for all the needs of His people. and He calls me His. this promise is for me. because He is for me.

but i'm still in that field. not trusting yet. well, not completely.

and my eyes still cannot look at His for long.

so He waits.

and i am grateful.

sampled of summer

today i didn't wear a sweater or a cardigan.

today i wore pants, without leggings underneath.

today i sampled of summer beneath the leaves. and beneath the leaves, their transparent and waxy cuticles gleaming, were branches. strong branches and lovely branches. thick ones and thin ones. supporting the weighty beauty above. extending an infrastructure so intricate and purposeful. and so unseen. unless one lays beneath the leaves. and if i were to follow the black ants down the highways i would find an equally impressive organization of limbs underneath. the wonder we behold daily is bursting with the sacred.

today i am thinking of the anatomy of a tree.

and the importance of branches. roots. trunks.

uncannily similar

i've been sick for a week now. and i've decided, i don't like it one bit.

last time i was this sick, i was in seventh grade. for that i am thankful. that is about eight years of "not-so-bad" health with the random cold here or there.

that was the year i started shaving my legs. they weren't particularly hairy. but when i was younger, my sister (now dear friend) commented that i had werewolf legs. we were in the laundromat because we lived in apartments. and my feet didn't quite touch the groud yet because i was little. my shoe laces were dirty. and my face was pudgy. but i was so cute. chances are she was just becoming aware of her feminine attributes, her being five years older than me, and was making a quick, observational statement. no hurt feelings intended.

but in seventh grade it seemed important to shave my legs. my mother was staunchly against this. so like any pre-pubescent young lady i defied her and proceeded to watch dark sprouts cover my bare, naked legs over the next few days. but all of this is beside the point.

sometime that year we were studying sickness and the bodies response to it. and it was so ironic, studying viruses and bacteria for a week in bed. losing fifteen pounds. hating the way everything tasted. disappointed i wasn't in class taking notes. drinking gatorade.

it is the third week of this semester. and i am recovering. still. i have taken medicine everyday. and accidently took three times too much robitussin once. when you are awfully tired teaspoon and tablespoon look uncannily similar. and my mother drugged me so i could get a good nights sleep! i love her. but, my goodness, she is a criminal now. i've missed two days of school and one day of work. this is all necessary. the rest is necessary if i desire to be better. so i rest in Him. and am made whole by His peace. and am convicted by His love. and am drawn by His unique mercy and grace.

p.s. in seventh grade i got braces. i also got contacts. what a year.

p.s.s. though it wasn't so beautifully crafted, this post serves at an attempt to start blogging regularly again. and an attempt to put off homework for just fifteen more minutes. i am so good.

for days off

thankful for

my twenty (almost twenty one) year old body -

the miracle of ligaments and muscle fibers

and numberless blood cells rushing through veins and arteries.

the earth and seeds that take root,

vegetables and fruits that are harvested

by honest men in the heat of day

for a wage.

a mother who still stresses the importance of a clean room.

for martin luther king jr.

for dreams, big and small,

borne of the tension,

the tight space where truth is spoken about but not yet realized.

for days off when your body is sick.

today is such a beautiful day.

it's january and in the seventies.

only in southern california.

every detail is His joy

oh, to know my shepherds voice.

to know Your gentle leadership.

perfect in all its ways.

He takes the time to lead me. the high and lofty Yahweh guides me.

He never slumbers or sleeps. my failings do not make Him drowsy.

or bored. or fed up.

He watches over me, every detail is His joy.

there is no peace for a heart that is divided.

i choose complete obedience.

Your commandments sustain me.

you see what i don't see.

you know what i don't know.

good good shepherd.

and i will know the quiet waters and rich, green pastures.

and i will know restortation.

and i will be led in paths of righteousness for His names sake.

this is my confidence, this is the truth i feed on:

that You are faithful and good.

so ready

tonight at twelve i will be on my way to redding california. for a conference that i've been wanting to go to for three years now. those leading worship for the conference have accompanied me on my way to school. to work. they have helped me open wide my heart. they have given me words to the emotions that are hopelessly incommunicable. they have shown me what freedom looks like.

i am so ready for this year.

and for every obstacle and opportunity it presents.

it's gonna be so good.

:)

more aware

right now i am focusing on myself.

so dissatisfying.

headache inducing.

i am becoming more aware of my selfishness.

beyond cure.

normally falling asleep is easy. effortless.

the closing of my eyelids is my escape.

where i need not think or process the stuff that i ought to.

it is so difficult sometimes to discern what one is to do.

or to say.

the heart is deceitful above all things.

it is beyond cure. who can understand it?

and i mislead myself. all. the. time.

i have faults that i am not aware of.

my heart hides and disguises destruction so well.

but no one likes to discover their brokenness.

especially if they have convinced themselves that all was right and good.

and whole.

i hate that i cannot understand myself the way others understand themselves.

sometimes i am overwhelmed with pure assurance. sheer security.

but it is a vapor.

and i cry.

but most of the time i stop myself.

but right now i can't.

and it's this hollow unproductive sadness and disappointment.

with no resolution in sight.

it's just that i am so broken.

and don't even know where to start.

i am so glad He came. and i know He is present. and real. and alive.

and abounding in love and mercy.

but i don't even know where to start.

He comes with light.

and i desire an outbreak of this very light in my thinking.

in the movings of my heart.

to expose the things hid. the things quivering with fright.

that they would be made visible. so that my true nature i can see.

and so that this kind Savior, who remembers that i am dust, may quiet my stammering and stuttering anxieties with love. a love that i do not understand and feel unworthy to receive.

but he calls me beloved.

worth love.

i am so glad He came.

even though i am scared. and broken.

i am so glad He came.

because He makes all things new. and whole.

good news. good news.

this is my joy. my song in the night.

i am so glad He came.

dsjfao;wegprgj

my sister and her husband are here.

for ten days.

and i'm going to jesusculture conference in january.

dsjfao;wegjprgj

and today i am going christmas shopping.

it's a tad late but i don't have many people to shop for.

(the adults in my family pick names because there are just too many of us.)

annnddddd i'm feeling rather crafty as of late.

cutting up old books.

::gasp::

*

excitement!

*thank you google images.

ponies

[conditioner del caballo. i.e. horse conditioner]

[safe for human use]

[taken at:

my home with my ever so lovely mac

my church's music/media department's christmas get together]

my sister patty, who currently lives with me - along with her two wonderful children, buys shampoos, conditioners, body washes, lotions, perfumes, body sprays, etc. in excess.

i never understood the need for more than

one shampoo,

one conditioner

and one body wash.

plus it makes navigating in the shower dangerous for the clumsy and cumbersome.

i admit that i am both.

and that i've slipped on a bottle or two.

however,

i do benefit from her splurges.

not only do i not have to worry when one bottle runs out

but i also get to take pictures with them*.

:)

*especially when i have a sweater that happens to match them.

eeks!

i officially finished the fall semester of my junior year this past thursday.

this means time to be creative.

lots of adventures.

christmas get togethers.

family (specifically: my sister and her hubby coming down for a bit).

decorating.

loving on people.

just all around goodness!

cheers to a lovely fall semester.

and my sociology final that ushered in christmas break.

i am so thankful for

time, valuable time.

that escapes me all too quickly.

it is already eight:forty this tuesday night.

and the seconds are dying.

right.

now.

thank you lord for time.

give me grace and wisdom to use it as you desire,

because it's really not mine to begin with.

big sigh

after a beautiful and loud day with family (thanksgiving),

i have spent the majority of the day alone.

working on a resume in photoshop. listening to music. reading. planning.

and it's only seven pm.

i have two weeks of school left - this includes finals week.

then i shall be on break.

::big sigh::

i cannot wait!

retaliating.

my body is retaliating against me.

itchy eyes.

cankersores.

stuffy nose.

hives.

headaches.

:(

p.s. this blog was a hott mess.

i sleep with my head at the foot of the bed. some things are better the opposite way.

i woke up by myself this morning. an hour before my alarm.

rested.

no desire to dig my head underneath my blankets. no resistance to the rising sun.

i woke up cold. like when you press your bare skin against icy glass.

crisp, chilling. cold.

i need to turn on the heater at night. even though turning it on scares me because it drys out my vocal folds. but i'm not a fan of waking up frozen. where to compromise...

my voice is tired. and it may be the changing of seasons. and the allergies. and the post nasal drip. and the general lack of sleep and increase in talking.

fact: i need to drink more water, breathe in steam, &&& sinus rinse the night away.

fact: i need to do a lot more things too, but i'll stick with the small things for now. :)

taking care of oneself is a discipline. you must find yourself worthy of care and time, valuable. you need to step back and recognize the many ways you abuse your mind and body. the way you neglect your soul. and you need to stop beating yourself over the head for taking some alone time*. because self care is not selfish. it's smart. and equips you for all the other things you need to do. and.... you're worth it!

fact: i'm sick of being burnt out. who wants to be burnt out by age twenty? not me. and i'm choosing against this.

*painting. reading. vegging on the couch. praying. hanging out with friends. singing. blogging.

p.s. this blog was a hott mess. forgiveness granted?

tis the season.

everyone* is ignoring their blogs as of late.

and apologizing for doing so to their very dedicated readers.

so for those readers who might still be sticking around or checking this forsaken thought space with a desperate hope that i will write another word.

i apologize.

but i mostly apologize to myself. because writing is [insert beautiful metaphor here that communicates how expressing the deep things i feel by stitching letters together is refreshing and beneficial to my soul].

tis the season for school to pick up its pace and busy schedules.

and so as everyone** checks in with blogdom to inform all, far and near (because we are all nearer than we think), they are still here, i say:

i'm here.

and alive.

and changing.

and experiencing freedom.

which is both painful and rewarding.

* i understand some people will always blog on a consistent basis. and that this is a broad generalization. but sometimes one must cut out things that take up too much time, regardless the pleasure and creativity and wonder these things encourage. too many lists to sort through.

** again with the broad generalizations.

p.s. this post has no picture or video. i know. and i also know this may mean i am a bad blogger. but i already apologized. so we can overlook that, right?

shut up long enough

as of late, in all this busyness, fear has made itself a presence.

a very loud and demanding presence.

and i don't know how to make it shut up long enough for Peace to rush into the lowest parts of me.

quiet my heart with Your love.

call out to the turmoil ''be still.''

make me lie down in green pastures.

above understanding, though i desire it.

above direction and wisdom, though i need it.

i long for You to rush in.

i know You are willing.

so come.

green like limes.

i want to sit outside.

thick mug. floating tea bags.

your face through steam.

cold breath and stars in your eyes.

grassy breeze. green like limes.

springtime at night. winter lingers.

creaking bench beneath the moon.

without pretense. to just be.

every flower

i'm taking time to smell the flowers.

every flower i see.

well, not every flower i see.

but you know what i mean.

and i love her art.

before i was conceived

yes, life is feeling new.

but can i reiterate how newness is so scary.

because it might mean a complete uprooting. and what scares me the most is the possible death of another expectation. a new expectation. because i've been grieving and sifting through the loss of a previous expectation for quite some time now. i can't handle another one. you see, my expectations are linked to huge life things. (though, this might be the crux of the problem. putting things like marriage. ministry. career. all, simultaneously in one single expectation.)

but if i'm not meant to be there with those people. and i'm not to meant to be here with you - you, who have already established exclusively tight knitted relationships with others - then where do i belong? where does my connectedness begin?

and this is why i am so thankful i can put these words in my mouth.

and soon enough in my heart.

" my soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him.

he alone is my rock and my salvation;

he is my fortress, i will never be shaken.

...

find rest, o my soul, in God alone;

my hope comes from him.

he alone is my rock and my salvation;

he is my fortress, i will not be shaken.

my salvation and my honor depend on God;

he is my mighty rock, my refuge.

trust in him at all times, o people;

pour out your hearts to him,

for God is our refuge.

selah

...

one thing God has spoken,

two things have i heard:

that you, o God, are strong,

and that you, o lord, are loving."

psalm 62:1-2, 5-8, 11-12

p.s. i normally hate it when people skip around a passage of scripture, only picking out certain parts that they like. but these are just parts that stuck out to me. and they are true. firm foundations. a refuge built before i was conceived. a refuge waiting for me enter in.

settle in your stomach.

life is new again.

it is like when you drink cold water and you can feel it travel down your esophagus and settle in your stomach.

unbelievably satisfying.

where the horizon should go.

today the sea and sky can't decide where the horizon should go.

they are both sincerely bad with boundaries, a flaw that they both admit is born out of their desire to be closer to the other.

the clouds daring to run its fingers across the icy blue. we call this a thick marine layer. we say that the fog is rolling in. but the sky is just caressing the sea.

and the sea doesn't mind.

the sea billows towards the lofty sun, and crashes loudly. we call these waves. but the sea is in a fit, willing to collapse within itself, willing to forgo the embarrassment to get a little closer then before. and they sky does not laugh or ridicule the seas attempts.

it welcomes them.

mexican part deux

my brother was in town this weekend and filled our fridge and pantry with ingredients that would not normally be there.

arabic bread. (think pita)

feta cheese.

cucumber-corn-tomato-onion-other-tasty-veggie salad.

to name a few...

and in my attempt to stuff said arabic bread, which was falling apart quickly,

i inadvertently turned it into a burrito.

of course, a burrito.

one would expect nothing less of such a refined latina.

i am certain that one day i will find myself doing this very thing in a

restaurant somewhere

suprising someone.

crummy decision

dear vocal folds,

i know you hate me. maybe hate is too strong of a word. but i know you are at least slightly upset and terribly shocked as i put you through five or six hours of singing on sunday. i haven't done that in a long while. it was a crummy decision as far as health goes. but i need you to come back. i'll treat you better. i've let you be mostly silent today. not even expecting a sound. but how i need you!

desperately waiting,

me

when i wake up

sometimes when i wake up,

i throw back my covers to jump into the lap of the Father.

it is oh so safe and wonderful.

and we watch the generous warmth of the sun pour over the city and all who inhabit it.

He tells me these are His children, dearly loved, created in His image.

He wishes they'd jump into His lap some morning.

me too.

chalkdays [pass due]

this is my friend alexis (to the right, to the right).

this summer we went to a park nearby and played with chalk.

there were lots more pictures.

documenting our silliness and our impressive chalk skillz.

(yes, i spelled that with a z. and yes, i am an original gangsta.)

but these will do....

until we strike again.

what what?

vibrant with possibility

today i am

in want of courage.

lots of it.

because desiring an integrated life

[no gaps. no compartmentalization.]

will take that

and much more.

and thankful for

air involuntarily filling and exiting my lungs.

oxygenating my blood.

my muscles.

gas to get to school on a jam packed freeway.

a job with children.

they are vibrant with possibility -

little mozarts

adolescent einsteins

all of them sparkling with destiny.

because we forget that we don't deserve these things.

we aren't entiltled to the luxuries that we've deemed ordinary.

that we expect to be there.

to always be there.

thankyouthankyouthankyou, giver and sustainer of life.