love//the words

you sat next to me.  it was something small to you, but it was something ever so large to me.  you sat next to me.  i sighed with relief.  i kept finding ways, small ways, to look at you.  to see your face, to watch your focus, to feel your warmth.  i crossed my legs and tilted my gaze so that you were in my peripheral.  i opened my journal and i wrote.  you opened your book and you read.  and i thought to myself, everyday could be like this.

it was a lofty thought.  to consider this, me and you, what we could be...forever.  forever.

and sometimes it felt like more than forever.  it was those moments, scattered as they were, that you were aware of me.  that you felt with me.  that you listened to me. that you called me.  that you waited for me.  that you sat with me.

it was profound.  it changed me. for the better, than for the worst, but ultimately for the better.

i remember you said, "you get too pensive."
i do, i thought, i do.
you didn't like that i had to stop to ponder so much.  you didn't like that we could never finish an argument without me taking a pause.  you didn't like when i said today needs to be me alone.  you didn't like it.

you were okay when it was you, not choosing to be alone, but rather to be with someone else.  that was okay.  that made sense.  but my need to be alone, that always confused you.

in the end: i gave myself away.
i changed for you.  i thought i could become exactly what you wanted, exactly what you needed, but it wasn't enough.  it wasn't okay.  not for you and not for me.

did you change for me?  did i cause you to do the things you did, to make the choices you did, the ones that hurt me, the ones you knew would hurt me?  did you understand the power you held over me?

it doesn't matter now, but i wonder if you did.  often i wondered.  it plagued me like a recurring illness.

but eventually, time stepped in, enough of it, for the redundancy of a thought to finally dwindle to non-existent

i remember texting you when i was on a bus in queens.  it was the first time i felt together in awhile.
do you remember what i wrote?

of course not.  it's probably a long deleted, or old archived conversation, far too brief to hold any importance for you.

all you said was, thanks.

i remember.  as soon as i read it, i deleted it. it said enough to help me to finally let go.

i'm so happy for you. 

those were the words that should have come months before, but couldn't find their way to you, not authentically anyhow.

our story is long over, but its effects remain deep.  we've both moved on in different ways.  and it's good.  really good.  if i held the pen to the story i always think, haughtily so, that i could have done a better job.

but i am wrong.  i never could.

i long ago gave up the idea of holding the pen.

today i was reminded that the surrendering of control is a good thing.

i realized it when you said hello..
it was perfect.
i recognized it when you pressed into my life, when you showed you cared.
i'd never come up with those words.
i couldn't have written that any better.  really, i couldn't have.

it is, for whatever it is or may be, the beginning of everything.

on loss//a prayer of hope

 "how do the geese know when to fly to the sun?

who tells them the seasons?

how do we, humans know when it is time to move on?

as with the migrant birds, so surely with us,

there is a voice within, if only we would listen to it

that tells us so certainly to go forth

into the unknown."

~Elizabeth Kubler Ross

loss requires perspective.
i think perspective comes with and through time and separation from the loss.
but sometimes loss doesn't happen in one fell swoop, rather it comes as a season with good and bad moments and then can hang on like a habit that cannot be broken. it is most definitely a long and arduous process, one in which there is no other way around but through.  and some losses will hang with us forever.

but in that there is beauty to be held in the loss.  there are memories and fondness that can ease the pain.  what is most wonderful and lovely in loss is that it brings out a hunger for heaven.  it stirs a desire for hope that is true and lasting.  and it is a reminder that our lives are more than this.  our lives are meant to be defined by much, much more than the losses that accumulate.

sometimes loss is worn like an unremovable label...they lost their child, she lost her husband, his parents abandoned him.  sometimes those losses become a part of you whether you like it or not.  sometimes they must define every next step.  sometimes those losses and the way you carry yourselves through and after lift you up to be a beacon of hope for others.

then there are the other losses.  i wouldn't dare call them smaller, they are just "other".  one can lose a grandparent, and those sorts of losses are not entirely unexpected.  for we learn with old age, death is rather inevitable.  then there are the losses of beloved pets.  expected or not, they can be equally difficult to walk through.  then there is the death of a dream, the loss of a job, friendship or even expectations.  all of which hold their own pain.

the question loss begs is, when is it time to move on?  not forget, but forge a new path...when is it time to go forth and chase after a new dream?  when is it the time to remarry?  to have another kid, to get a new pet?

lately, life is scattered with little losses.  i can assess the size of my own because i know how they feel when i sit with them and hold them in my hands.  i feel their weight and though they are not great in size, the depth of their pain is real.  they are losses i can certainly move on from.  they are losses that remind me life is a both/and experience rather than an either/or.

moving on requires a direction, and i find that it is the direction that is unknown.  and the unknown, right now, feels like the greatest hardship amidst the losses.  the unknown, instead of feeling expansive in nature actually feels quite limiting.  and as soon as i recognized the limits that i felt, i realized i was losing hope. and the loss of hope is not a loss i can bear.  it wasn't even an all encompassing loss of hope, but rather a gradual loss that showed itself when it finally came to writing down the possibilities of new directions.  i couldn't see past the way in which i've let these recent losses define me. 

so i lay these losses at the Lord's feet.  i give Him this 'unbeknownst to me', direction.  He knows.   when i am feeling a sense of lost hope i know with great certainty i am at the very least headed in the wrong direction.  so i trust, i must trust, He knows.

so, tomorrow, Lord willing, i will awake, and i will rise and my feet will touch the ground and i will walk forward, pressing into the day, dreaming and living in unknown directions. i may not know what the next day holds, but He does.  and His direction for me is saturated in hope.

Lord, let us not lose sight of You.  You who holds Hope in His hands.  Help us to rely on and rest in You.  Draw us, our dreams and desires, our losses and heartbreak to You, the only true Hope.  thank you that (as scary as it is) we can go forth into the unknown, trusting (not always seeing) that you truly are guiding each step.  as we take these quiet, sometimes trepid steps toward your lead, may we come to know You more intimately, knowing that you too bear our losses. may we find the comfort of peace that you offer us so graciously. 

gumption//word of 2015

how gumption came to me was rather coincidental.  i was looking for a word like gumption, but at first i didn't like the way it sounded.  words, they must sound good, no? especially when that is a word you are counting on to define and guide a whole year of your life.  gumption to me, at first sound, seemed sort of a dumb, odd choice.  it's not a word that rolls off the tongue with ease. nor is it pretty.  it doesn't bring to mind a beautiful image.  nevertheless, i have no doubt that it is my word, rather my theme for 2015.

gumption demonstrates a certain strength and tenacity just in how it sounds.  it is the word that best defines my efforts, desires and dreams for 2015.

a few days before Christmas, as is tradition, i watched the holiday while wrapping gifts.   and surprisingly, unlike any previous viewing this scene stood out to me:

iris has always been the more relatable character for me, of the two leading ladies (something about those kate winslet kind of girls).

this time around i really saw this scene as the most important part of the movie, in my humble opinion.  more than seeing her fall in love, more than seeing any other character's kind of happily ever after, you just want to see her stick up for herself and tell jasper where to stick it.

and she does.
beautifully.

and you see, this is what i want in many sorts of ways.  the gumption (spunk, spirited initiative, courage, cleverness, nerve, sass...) to stand up, to speak up, to shut up, to write it down, to share it, to pray it, to believe it, to fight for it, to just finally say it.  to not let it go.  to not pretend it doesn't bother me.  to not say no when i really mean yes and vice versa.

gumption lived out is strong.  gumption lived out looks tenacious and acts boldly.  gumption to me, bridges the gap to 2014 because it in many ways also conveys my wholehearted approach to life and all that i do.  i believe gumption is feminine and i believe gumption is God-given. 

i don't characterize my goals and drive for 2015 to be wholly gumptious. i know i can't be and won't always be.  there will be situations that call for it and i will not step up.  maybe because i am afraid, or i am tired, or maybe at that point in time, i just won't care.  and my false self will say i failed and i am no good...but hopefully, i will realize this is not true.  i will instead pray and i will remind myself, that this here, this year i have been given, this word in my heart is to remind me to try.  it is to encourage me to be more and to say what wants and needs to be said.

gumption, i believe, is what God is calling me to be and live in such a way.  it is the word inscribed in my heart as it is in its current state.  prior to this, about midway through 2014, brave was the word that rested heavy on my heart.  to be brave. however, i questioned it often.  because brave to me is rather vague or at the very least an overused term that seems to lose its meaning as a result of misuse.  if anything, i think gumption is a component of bravery.  it is not bravery, but rather a piece that i need/long to learn to live out.  i believe gumption is the vocal piece of bravery.  and one thing i can say with certainty is that i don't think i'm to be quiet anymore.  it's time to speak...write...and respond.

so,  2015, 4 days in...
let's pray, and let's take small steps, and some bigger leaps and let's be gumptious.

on home//finding life that is not in places or things

"writing is both mask and unveiling."//e.b. white

 found here

my own space is important.  i have to have a small part of this world that feels like home. but what is home to me varies.  sometimes it is the literal space i find myself driving to everyday after work.  and though that place may vary and the people i am living with change, a part of home is that roof you live your life under, where you lay your head each night.

however, i am learning that home is more than just that.  they say, "home is wear the heart is,"and i truly believe this familiar quote to be most certainly true.  which therefore means i find my home in so very many places.  a friend of mine jokes that i heart too many things.  and it's true.  whenever we're driving together i definitely overuse the phrase, "i love this song."  but i do, i love many songs!  i find feelings, hope, joy, solace...in many, many songs.

my family and friends, they, of course, have pieces and parts of my heart.  they are the ones i would go to the ends of the earth for.  and as much as i may say i hate the overuse of the word love, there is something to it when i say i love this or that.  i have deep affection and will give great attention to those things i say i love.  i love people, things and places because in part of what they offer me, but also because it is in my nature to love and have affection, and demonstrate an appreciation for that which i say i love.  and what i love is my heart, and where my heart is, there i do find my home.
 
i love audrey hepburn films, live music outdoors, the sound of a violin, the voice of etta james, making lists and checking things off...i love my church, i adore owls, i am enamored with beautiful handbags, a new dress, a british accent, colorful picture frames, mint green...i have great fondness for binge watching gilmore girls, reading judy blume books, tom hiddleston's smile, the humor of mindy kaling, the sound of the pacific ocean, a charming pencil sharpener, all things kate spade...i have a great attachment to the beauty of land, the smell of of suntan lotion and a good taco...and in someway, i find that all of these things/experiences/places, as fleeting or sustaining as they may be they offer a home to me in some way.
 that home is a sense of comfort, inspiration and enjoyment.

my bedroom is basically a place for thousands, yes thousands of books to live.  every single wall is lined with bookshelves, and every single shelf is sagging with books.  in these stories, i find a home.  i make friends with the characters.  i enjoy living in their shoes for awhile.  i laugh with them, i love with them, i cry with them, i hope with them.  books, in and of themselves, their binding and smell, the way they are decorated, the feel of the pages, i find, are a piece of my home.

home is found in nature.  it is found in the glory of God's creation.  it is uncovered through the mountains and the oceans, through a sky full of stars, and the morning light just before the sun has fully risen.  i find when i enter into the vast natural world around me, where trees and grass are in abundance, where wild life can be clearly seen, where flowers bloom, and the skies are vast, here is where i experience God most intimately, here is a taste, i think, of my heavenly home.

home is an a dog, who i believe found me, rather than the other way around.  she came into my life when i needed her most, and she understands the emotional terrain she walks with me in day by day.  she is attentive to the mood and she is who i need her to be.  her affection and appreciation for me makes me want to be the person she thinks i am.  she has my heart, in a way, more than i thought an animal of all things ever could.  perhaps, that is only something one says before they have children...and maybe it makes me crazy, but that's okay, she is my home.

what i've discovered over the past two years though, more than all of these people, places, experiences and things, home is found in words.  words in song, words in conversation, words on a page, the words the meld together out of my own creativity and thinking.  these words, they are my home.  if i am lucky, i will always have words.  putting words to page is so vastly important to me right now.  if i had to pick one thing i could do, spend 40 hours of my week invested in, it would be this: the typing of the keys, the putting pen to page, the filling up my tanks, and then letting out what needs to be said. 

it really doesn't matter to me the amount of readers...the act and art of writing is more about self-care and nurturing my creativity.  it is more about not going insane.  it is definitely not about perfection. 
i would rather be poor in money, but rich in words. 
writing is what i am committing myself to in 2015. 
my efforts thus far have been sporadic at best.  so now, i have a plan.  if home is where words are, then this is where i want to find myself as often as possible.  giving heart and attention to these words that ask and sometimes demand to be written down and spoken. 
if home is a place you find yourself every day for hours on end...
then writing is my true home//my life that is not in place or thing.

a wholehearted reflection//2014

i miss video stores.  i've been thinking about this a lot lately.  i miss the days of walking into a blockbuster, video discount, or hollywood video and renting a movie.  there was so much enjoyment that held for me.  it was always the last stop on a day of errands, or i'd swing in after a late class, or a long shift and i would linger.

i remember the smells vividly, like a mix of burnt popcorn, cardboard and metal.  it was an odd mix of aromas and while not totally pleasant, i found it was soothing in a way.

i would walk down the aisles, perusing movie titles and reading the backs of rental cases that i found particularly intriguing.  i would seek out movies that weren't based on friend's recommendations, or critic's commentaries, but wholly based on simply what my eyes were drawn to.  a man standing under bright moonlight in the middle of a baseball field...a woman's tortured expression amidst darkness and a sinister gentleman standing off in the distance, a man's proud smile gazing towards a pensive child sitting at a desk...it was the images that told me i wanted to know these characters and their stories.  i would often ignore the titles and allow the people and the settings to speak for themselves.

by the time i'd get to the last aisle i would have 6 or 7 dvd's in tow and then be faced with the great task of narrowing down a solid selection to one or two to watch that evening.  once i decided i would return the other titles to their rightful place and hopefully i would come upon them on the next visit.  i never wrote anything down or made lists.  i just wanted my heart to guide the choosing.  and more often than not, i would be pleasantly surprised.  sometimes i watched stories unfold that got completely under my skin.  and those became the stories i would own to watch again and share with others.

i spent years collecting these experiences.  mostly in solitude.  on occasion i would share this with someone, but i found that most people aren't as open in their movie watching experiences.  they have to know someone, or find out what someone else thought, or be guaranteed two hours of jam packed action and thrills to actually fork over the $2 or so dollars to rent something.

but i liked the surprise element.  i liked that this was one aspect of my life i could leave to chance. the consequences were nothing other than a less than thrilling hour or two.

but i think that this is what life needs.  life demands a little more openness to new experiences and a little less judgment based on a solitary perspective.   for me, living a year wholeheartedly meant being open to pursuing things unabashedly, unashamed of the passion that i felt.

last night i fell asleep with the rushing of rain hitting against my window.  i let myself lay in silence (which is rare) but i am finding more and more necessary.  i stayed awake well into my regular sleeping hours and i allowed myself to think on my day, on the stirrings in my heart, and the people down the hall and across town, and in the cities just north of here, and those that are states away.  and i let myself feel the longings for those whom i missed, for the way that relationships change over the passing of years, and the heavy pangs that sometimes press in for those that are now gone.

sometimes these pains, these longings, and even this fullness of heart demands to be felt.  sometimes i may just decide they need to be noticed and given attention.  i cannot and will not let years, months, even days go by without noticing, without giving reverence to what my heart is saying.

i miss riding the f train into manhattan and exploring the magic of the city i so longed for many years to live in and see.  that city and its culture catapults my thoughts into dreams.  it still holds something for me.  i don't know if it is a life or just another visit.  i am trying to listen to my heart on that one and not be hindered by the cliche of such a dream.  it takes sitting with it, sharing it, and praying it to begin to know what to do with it and whether it calls for a wholehearted pursuit.

dating was precarious at best. i was risky and took some chances which only seemed to lead down a path of hurt.  dating as a full-grown adult is quite a slippery road to walk down and at times even a perilous experience, especially when one is trying to do all things wholeheartedly.  what i do know is when i finally meet the man i choose to spend the rest of my life with it will mean so much more for every holiday photo taken alone, it will mean more for all the years when i learned to do things on my own, it will mean more for the life i've learned to maneuver on my own.  for the many times i've thought i am too far gone to allow space and room for another...it will mean so much more.

2014 was a year that required faith and asking big questions about that faith and church.  2014 meant realizing that life requires more than just wholehearted attempts to give my all to everything i did.  2014 was about walking with friends as they entered into motherhood, standing with friends on their wedding day, praying and crying and laughing with friends facing infertility and cancer diagnoses.  2014 was the year i realized that relationships aren't built overnight.  i realized that while community is an authentic God-given desire, cultivating one is almost impossible.  i thought, perhaps in vain, if i just loved and gave of myself wholeheartedly it would be enough, but truly it never was.  that isn't to say it wasn't worthwhile or without its meaning...it just wasn't everything i though it was going to be.  but that is life isn't it?

disappointment is a part of it all.  it always is when we have expectations.

but in spite of that, i enjoyed so much of this year.  life was a mixed bag of experiences and events.  it was the year of new restaurants, great books, reunion concerts, having your tweet favorited by a celebrity, grocery store pick-up lines, puppy dates, discovering the good wife and it becoming an obsession, deciding on a second tattoo, battling worry and fear in a hardcore way, hugging brett eldredge, paying off a student loan, sharing the most vulnerable parts of my heart with some unexpected people and learning to accept the both/and aspects of life and what is gracefully and joyfully.

this was the year i will look back on as truly bittersweet.
as the calendar turns and tomorrow begins a new chapter, i feel not quite ready to shut the door on 2014.  i believe so much of what was learned and experienced this year are necessary to hold onto and carry with me a little closer. it sometimes feels as though i am on the cusp of a great self-revelation.  so i am holding tighter than i usually do.  perhaps what i've learned and experienced will directly impact what 2015 holds. 

and so i await with great anticipation what the turn of the calendar has in store for all of us.

christmas//through the lens of courage

there are certain words and phrases that quickly come to mind when thinking of the christmas season and its story.

hope, joy, love, peace, merry, good will towards men...

all of which are true and beautiful.

though i think we get stuck on those words (i know i do) and fail to realize the many other aspects, words, and phrases that encompass and define this miraculous story.

this year i've been encouraged to see christmas through a new lens. what i often miss or fail to give proper thought and reflection to joseph's side of the story.  and what i found as i read through it was that it really presents Christmas to us through the lens of courage.  

for joseph courage first looked like this: 

But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared

to him in a dream and said “Joseph son of David, do not be

afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived

in her is from the Holy Spirit.  She will give birth to a son, and you

are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people

from their sins.”-Matthew 1:20–21

joseph was not unafraid, but rather walked into the fear with faith.

as the story progresses we watch joseph time and time again pick himself up, take up his family and walk forward with courage, letting God handle the outcomes.  

i think the angel appearing to joseph is often overlooked but is not without its grand importance in the unfolding story of Jesus coming to earth.  the angel stopped joseph from making a decision that could have had severe negative effects.  and it wasn't like the angel forced joseph into action with his magical powers.  joseph made a choice.  a courageous choice.  he was a righteous man, but he showed himself to be much like me and much like you.  he felt fear, but he was a person who chose to trust.  

and what comes in part as a result of joseph's courage is the story that transcends 2,000 years and is still changing lives and impacting hearts to this very day.  

today we celebrate.  and i am thankful for the reason in which we can gather together with friends and families and share gifts with one another.  may it's true reason not be lost in our hearts this day.   

this song has been on repeat for me this christmas season.  this year it reminds me of why the courage that we see in the christmas story is possible for each of us.  and i am thankful that christmas and all that it holds inspires courage.

Only to bring you peace,
Only at Christmas time,
Only the King of Kings,
Only what once was mine,
It takes the end of time,
It takes a long, long time,
Only one thought of mine,
Only at Christmas time.
He brings us peace,
He brings us joy,
He brings all thoughts to destroy,
Only at Christmas time,
To bring us peace,
To bring us joy,
To bring all thoughts to destroy,
Only at Christmas time.
Only at Christmas time,
Only a dream to cry,
Only at Christmas time,
If you can read the sign,
Only at Christmas time,
Everything lost will be found,
Only at Christmas time,
Only at Christmas time

on 30//my currency

"if you are lucky, there is a moment in your life when you have some say as to what your currency is going to be.  i decided early on it wasn't going to be my looks...my currency became what i wrote and said and did."//amy poehler

1) i've learned that writing is hard.  it's much harder than i thought, and definitely not for the reasons i previously thought.  it's hard to be okay with, as anne lamott so eloquently put, "writing shitty first drafts".  creating a novel is one of the most challenging processes, especially when one wants to write without pretension. if anything, this process has taught me to write without over-thinking. i'm trying to write what i remember for exactly what it was, not a romanticized idealization of what was.  i know now that i want to write what is real.  st. augustine said truth is like a lion, not something you need to defend, let it loose and it shall defend itself.  and so, i will be most earnest to write and speak truth. with love.  hopefully, always with love.  beyond that, or perhaps encompassing all of that, i am accepting that writing is really a rather ineffable thing.  steinbeck said we should write to and for our readers.  otherwise, what interest will they have in what we read and say.  but really, right now, i only write for myself. and i continue to be good with that. i will take the encouragements and truths from those writers i admire and i will implement them into my own practice, because that makes me better.

2) in spite of a love for writing i can recognize that my strength really isn't found in my words.  i'm learning that words are limiting.  they often do not convey the sentiments and emotions i so longingly wish to express.  it comes out a little better in writing, but hardly ever is my strength in unplanned spoken words.  sometimes, though written words have come out well enough to be considered a strength, but it is certainly not a reliable strong point.  so even though, i sometimes wish words and writing were my currency, i would not claim that they are.  and this too, i can accept.

3) my currency is not found in beauty or charm, or even kindness or compassion...because those are at best unreliable, popping up without any will on my part, but rather by grace, prayers and grand efforts.  and some days, let's face it, these things just won't happen.

4) if anything, i am learning/have learned (and am again accepting) that my currency varies.  on different days and different moments i feel like this is it.  it presents itself, and i think, oh, here it is, i'm ticking and beating and it is vibrant and dynamic,  but it is often ever so slippery and gone in an instant. and this is okay.  so when asked, what is my currency? i can be vague and say that it is many things, and for today it is...

5) it's true what they say, the older you get, the less (you realize) you actually know. this world is an immensely competitive place and growing up is such a mysterious process.  it's not always easy to recognize when growth happens and how.  thirty has shed more light on that which is truly important and those things that just really don't matter.  and what it all boils down to is this.  30 has made me realize i cannot and never will i be...perfect.  another way of making this all the more clear to myself is the every day reminder that i can control so very little in my life, and absolutely nothing outside of it.

6) for most of my life perfection was my currency.  it hurt me in a great many ways, but perfection fueled the trying and the writing, it kept a part of me chugging along through disappointment and distraction, and for those reasons alone, i can appreciate the version of myself that forced me into forward movement at the worst of times.  it helps to realize those ill parts of ourselves also offer some good.  and mostly it points me back to Him who was and is perfect. and that knowledge, known and felt in His presence, is my true currency.

7) i firmly believe it's okay to say no when asked out.  not every man's interest needs to be addressed. and though i struggle with this, it doesn't have to include a lie to justify it.  just be honest.  30 and single, does not equate to desperate and willing to settle.

8) let's not take each other out of context. i hate that.  let's be willing to grasp the whole big picture otherwise, what good are we to each other? a big picture point of view makes for lasting relationships. 

9) i am not, nor will i ever be, my mother, or my best friend, or my heroes, or even the very best dreamed up version of myself.

10) my dreams are not a husband and babies, nor are they my nice home and my career.  these dreams that fill the longings and desires in my heart are so much more than that.

30 means embracing what is to come...however long of a chapter that it will become, only God knows...but 30 means reawakening those sidelined dreams by praying them up unabashedly and working towards them step by step.