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.

and

saturdays are good news.

quiet light and easy silence.

trapped

i want to move away and start fresh.

these streets are too close.

the freeway. the parks. the stores.

i feel trapped by memories.

i want a life that has no reminders.

about anything i experienced prior to this past may.

and the moments of foolishness between then and now.

i want to forget forget forget the people and places.

and the pain they brought me.

the insecurity they engrained in me.

right now i do not care for the good things anymore.

they are overshadowed by the hurt.

what good is remembering when all i see and feel and experience now is aching?

what good is remembering when it leaves me so disorientated?

i can choose to not dwell on things.

and i have been. and will continue to.

i can choose to stay away from things and sources that will remind me.

but a familiar area will always be familiar area.

yes, i want to move away, need to, desperately.

let us

this song is a deep inhalation and a relaxed exhalation.

it gives me time to breathe.

let us become more aware of Your presence.

let us experience the glory of Your goodness.

yes.

because He is here.

and sometimes i don't notice.

yes.

because He is good.

and i forget that this moment is a product of it.

let love

sometimes letting love grow means saying no to things that
prohibit
stunt
terminate
growth.

i commit myself to this.
to saying no.
as often as growth requires.
because growth isn't as bad as i used to think.

today i am eager for growth.
and am thankful for the growth that has occurred.

handle the hiccups

sometimes i absent-mindedly overcommit myself.

this is what happens when i don't check my planner with shocking regularity.

one day i will learn. but until then i will stay up late and wake up early and maybe skip a class or two to write a paper because i chose to cover a morning shift tomorrow (leaving my last minute paper writing time slot somewhere down the toilet).

when i realized this i laughed.

laughed at how often i find myself in this situation.

laughed at the impossibility of a perfectly executed planned life.

laughed at how the unplanned things usurp power and control from the planned things. as well as the security and peace we derive (or should i say, i derive) from said planned things. (why do we insist on putting so much stock into our plans?)

this is a small, insignificant occurance.

the paper will get done.

the notes from my skipped classes will be retrieved.

the timecard will be stamped at six forty-five am.

i truly have nothing to worry about.

but how i handle this unexpected interference says much about how i handle the other larger, significant ones.

i want to handle the hiccups of life well.

this laughable moment makes me so appreciate the nap i took earlier.

i knew i would need it.

i've said too much

i haven't the chance to write something well thought out right now.

but i am thrilled for the next time i do.

is it strange that i am eagerly looking forward to forming sentences and working out ideas?

i am.

life has been good lately. good talks with friends and the feller and the counselor. some with tears on my end. but i do so enjoy a good cry. i register for my last semester of college tomorrow. what? how did that all happen so fast? i have two papers to write. my school load has been heavy. felt heavy. but i have made time to watch movies periodically. to occassionaly share hummus and lavash and carve pumpkins. to have impromptu sleep overs. to eat ice cream. to talk even when i'd rather be on vocal rest. because people are important. and all the details of my schoolwork will be accomplished. simple as that.

i need not be overwhelmed. i just must do what needs to be done, without distraction.

and be. i must be as often as possible.

my life depends on it.

the quality of my life depends on it.

and in that being i must laugh and cry and cherish cherish cherish those moments.

ah, i've said too much already.

time to type well into the evening.

p.s. i'm trying to listen to music that i wouldn't naturally go looking for. but i am disciplining myself to consider what effect different genres (of all sorts) might have on my appreciation for beauty, life, creativity, and excellence.

p.s.s. i could not find any appropriate picture for this blog entry. my sincerest apologies. (hah! as if i have to apologize. ::wink::)

a handful

this weekend was wonderful.

productive and comical.

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

life delights in

yes, yes, yes.

come above the surface.

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

i stretched.

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

i read.

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

(and at the same time)

i ate.

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

i stilled myself.

after reading a quote from evelyn underhill:

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

the first phrase gave me reason enough to pause.

from the centre.

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

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

from the centre.

what was in the center was flowing out.

the fear and realization of betrayal has burrowed itself deep.

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

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

one that i hold dear.

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

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

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

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

the reflection:

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

humble winged creatures tied to mildly strong branches

quiver, quiver, quiver.

he has come. is coming. will come.

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

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

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

...

i want to be like this tree.

simply like this tree.

grounded. rooted. established.

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

yes, i want to be like this.

grounded. rooted. established.

luxurious

i want a pillow from here.

my wish list is growing.

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

and at the same time i am learning that

i do not need more.

what i have is enough.

let's be real,

more than enough.

feeling warm water on my bare back

every morning

is

luxurious.

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

the things i take for granted.

like this computer.

like a bed.

like a toothbrush.

like socks.

uneasy about abandonment.

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

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

oh, and her family too.

oh, and her friends as well.

it's like a child uneasy about abandonment.

it's like a child grabbing and clinging,

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

mine, mine, mine.

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

let the rivers flow.

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

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

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

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

critical, potetent, fertile

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

dr. lissa rankin

stolen from this lady.

sadly,

today feels like a friday.

sadly, it is a tuesday.

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

yes, i am that girl on the freeway.

my ipod is headed to its deathbed.

and can only be used when plugged in.

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

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

(although sometimes i opt for silence.)

sidenote: i love dance music.

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

purpose of this post: i love this song.

whenever it comes on i smile.

and sing along.

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

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

loudly.

and i keep dancing in my seat.

unashamedly.

yes, i am that girl on the freeway.

this song may not be musically intricate.

david guetta and usher may have accomplished no creative feat.

but it sure is catchy.

and that's enough sometimes.

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

fun, simple, listener-friendly music.

celebrate

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

i celebrated working with children with a friend.

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

i celebrated an almost-bride.

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

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

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

i celebrated Christ our Redeemer, our Living Hope.

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

i have so many reasons to celebrate Him.

He is so good.

cheers

today is our one year.

perhaps this would be a better picture.

so cheers to this feller.

to his character.

to his patience.

to his intelligence.

to his humour.

to his talents.

to his kindness.

to his strangeness.

to his good looks.

to his facial hair.

to his vulnerability.

to his dreams.

to his faithfulness.

and cheers to us.

to working through it all.

thank you, dear.

to the easiness we have right now.

to the difficulties we have right now.

and to the hope we have for many tomorrows.

i am so fortunate to do this with him.

i am so proud to partner with him.