from this sacred space

There's a Hebrew word, makom, and it means sacred space; I'm attempting to live from there, from that sacred space of divinity that feeds the soul, and speaks to the heart, mine and yours - to live as if the universe has been declared to me. Lofty I know, and so other than, it almost seems like an improbable endeavor. But, I assure you friends, it is not. I listen for it all the time, and it happens. Everywhere and anywhere all at once.

From this sacred space I can recognize simple words like, "thank you," as golden nuggets worth treasuring for longer than the time it took to say it. And when I take walks at the dock by my house, I can recognize the sound of the water licking the shoreline as the sound of creation singing its story. And I can recognize the whisper of my Jesus when all I did was look up.

Yes, I looked up. And there. There flew three beautiful wild geese over-head.

Long-necked, and heading headlong to some place mother earth was calling them to. Watching, I whispered back a prayer in my heart, "Let me be as the wild geese, free, going wherever they've been called." And then, this poem was echoed to me, brought to the forefront of my mind:

You do not have to be good

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers,

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

wild geese | mary oliver

Gush. It was as if the wind beneath these birds in flight had drawn a breath from me and made me swoon, only to bring me to these beautiful beautiful words! This world lends itself to our imaginations. Let us create new worlds! Let us see this life as the wild geese see their's, in full view, where heaven's abundance and the earth's wealth meet and is close at our own hands. Let us find our place in the family of things as we let ourselves actually do what is turning and tossing in our hearts to do, understanding fully that despite what will come, we will always be at our apotheosis, at the height of things. Let it be so. And when it does, may it breathe a hallelujah.

A friend, at your typical soup and bread shop, in the middle of some conversation on God knows what, the words, "Forgetfulness is good. If we didn't forget, everything would be overwhelming." He said it quick, and so very nonchalant, as if he himself didn't understand the weightiness to his words, but I took this in.

While I can find myself thankful after having spent an hour revisiting memories, enjoying the beauty and sentiments of a moment's glory, there comes a lapse in time where whatever healing may have come from reminiscing, it turns on itself, and I become wounded.

And so, these days, instead of recollecting, I am practicing forgetfulness, letting what's past live only as pillars that shout, "Then, it was good! And now, now you are better! And after this? The 'more' you didn't know of!" And its been good, easy and easier all the time.

Eyes Wide Open

I love driving before the sun comes, when the sky shows lovely pinks and purples behind silhouettes of barren trees, and the morning fog is only beginning to lift, letting the sky hang just above my head. Heaven never seemed so close...

As of late, I've been feeling as if eternity is closing in on me, while expanding too inside, encircling without, and enlargening within.

Through the lulls I am graced with these seconds that feel like a little bit of heaven right before me, hedging me in, on every side, this eternity, and infiniteness coming to beckon me away from the meaningless of meaningless, a brush against my face from the hand of my Creator. The seconds of my day may go on fleeting, sure, but I'm increasingly more aware that these short moments have been purposed since forever, and on. He has set eternity in the hearts of men, says Ecclesiastes. And I've been leaning into these moments. These gifts. Looking and seeing.

These seconds look like this:

One morning, as I made my way to work, I pulled into a parking space, paused, and sat in my car for 30 seconds more than intended to, just because. And then, my eyes beheld a small, but bright, deep red against the blunt colors of winter. It was a winter cardinal fluttering about in the smallest wedge found between the bushes. Right in front of me. Only for my eyes to enjoy. Only for me. Time stood still in that moment.

Another second looked like:

End of the day. Around the bend of the sidewalk, I am walking a little one to his bus after school, and then: a squeeze of his hand into mine. Do you know what that did to me? It was like gripping the hem of Jesus's cloak-- a gesture of healing for me, as if something so kind slipped into my heart and spoke words so divine, so personal... words so good I must keep to myself, to preserve their sacredness.

And so, I am looking.

On a similar note, it's the first full week of December-- December, the last month of the year, the culmination of things past. And then, it is also Advent. A time of looking to the coming Christ, both in remembrance of, and also in the present longing that is before us, oh the coming King, I am looking for You, with eyes wide open, I am looking.

To everything there is a season,

a time for every purpose under heaven....

What profit has the worker from that in which he labors? I have seen the God-given task with which the sons of men are to be occupied. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no once can fathom the work that God does from beginning to end. | Ecclesiastes 3:1,9-11

Alleyways seem so dramatic; in a city that manifests the essence of hustle and bustle, such a space seems so curious... It's narrow and lingering, unknown, hidden from everything. They're by themselves. A little menacing yes, but the thought of it, to me, is a nice break from the boisterousness of this piece of earth. A place of solitude maybe? No. A place of quietness paired with harrowing suspense is more truthful. The contrast and harmony between restlessness and then stillness within the same context is really what I'm trying to get at! That. That is what I enjoy.

I passed by several alleyways this weekend as I ventured to the city of Richmond.

Conversations danced around: the transitions of life, & the worthiness of our pursuits

While we ate: gyros and fried oreos

Having: tea on hand as we thrifted good finds

Enjoying: street art and deserted train stations

Ryan rehashed what words of wisdom he shared with another and recalled it to me, saying, "You might think it's a step backwards, but it's not. It never could be, it's only a step forward from where you are. You're learning..."

I am learning to adjourn from life a little. Sometimes interruptions are necessary to become more present don't you think?

"cherish your solitude. take trains by yourself

to places you have never been. sleep out alone

under the stars. learn how to drive a stick shift.

go so far away that you stop being afraid of not

coming back. say no when you don't want to do

something. say yes if your instincts are strong, even

if everyone around you disagrees, decide whether

you want to be like or admired. decide if fitting in

is more important than finding out what you're doing here.

believe in kissing." | eve ensler

what good comes from failure

A beautiful essayist by the name of Brian Doyle described writing as a form of contemplation and a form of prayer. These words, taken from the tip of my tongue, couldn't be any more true. For me, at least. It helps me unburden myself. It's a house whose walls are made of words, of which, I feel a certain privacy to them, and then it is also a way of announcing to the world (a small world yes, but my world anyhow). It's my retreat, my wilderness, where my imaginations and my thoughts are free to run wild without the feeling that someone may not enjoy them as much as I do.

Nevertheless, it's becoming extremely important for me to write,

and more importantly, to chronicle my thoughts. Indulge me as I chronicle my stories, and what happens thereafter, will you?...

This past weekend my friends and I went to see this gift of a musician, David Bazan. It was such a good show with such good people, where the evening was filled with honest music and good conversations, where listening, if it was ever a chore for you, became something more of a pleasure and a rest. It was beautiful, a kiss of blessing I'd been needing, complete with a sweet pause, framed by these rich rich rich words: stability is a myth.

From there, whatever might have followed after, my mind couldn't stop tossing these four simple words. And even in the middle of the set, when an open forum was made out of a five minute break between songs, the conversation between audience and beloved artist echoed again those four words.

One question that was thrown out was, "Do you have any regrets within your career as a musician?" Such a weighty question that pulled and gathered much anticipation over his response. We wanted to know his journey, to be told that this gig is hard shit, but it's worth the labor. We wanted to be told that what desires, coupled with what is hard, is what gives the greatest satisfaction. Or maybe, quite possibly, what desires that are pursued wholeheartedly is what gives the greatest satisfaction, irrelevant of what hardships might come.

True. Stability, such is a myth. No life is safe from sorrow nor trial, or pain. And as a result of a year of being in a relationship, and it coming to an end, I'm understanding this a little more. (yes. I said it. and i'm making it public. I am no longer in a relationship. oh twenty-two years of always understanding a little more than just before, but never will I ever arrive at Understanding. Making sense of what is is a mystery unveiling ). I've been grieving, yes, and then I've been beholding some crazy silver line of a revelation. One that is completely freeing.

As a resolution to this failed relationship*, I am allowing myself one year to fail.

You heard me. I'm taking one year to fail. To fail miserably- of putting into action what dreams and concepts and ideals I've piled up for myself. I'm giving myself one year to be brave. There is much to be had in this world, and I want to be apart of it.

A muslim poet wrote, "Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground." I heard a sermon once on the posture of worship that parrots this verse and leads me in a chorus. The man described worship as bowing low, kissing the dust, returning to the place from which we came from, dust. Because that place is where the origin of our intention was knit together. This is my exploit: returning to my origin as I let the beauty I love be what I do. This will be me, bowing low, and leading a life that no longer suppresses the woman I was made to be. No more suppressing my secret desires and dreams. No more. And if it takes a year to fail, then failing I will.

So as a start, I'm going on this journey of religiously chronicling and blogging every story that comes my way, most especially my failures, because friends, I'm living one hell of an adventure. Here's to vulnerability and confession! Here's to practicing a kind of honesty I hardly practice for fear of being found out!

Join me, please! And pray for me too! hahah I am walking into a season of experiential knowing. And I will be living to tell of it. Believe you me. It will be a long-winded, if not unending, thrill of experientially knowing the goodness and wildness of my God, who orchestrates and orders every chaos into a heap of ashes from which beauty is surely to sprout from. How does a good God do that?!

Jesus, hold me to this.

*I want to clarify: I wouldn't qualify my past relationship as a failure. It's been a thing of grace and mercy. I have been allowed to see more clearly where I am, and where I'm supposed to be, and likewise, he too sees this for himself incaseyouwerewondering

ps. Friends, logistically, I realize I've been a bit obscure as to how this year will pan out. And that's half the fun really. Details on the plans I'm scheming will be disclosed in up-coming posts!

please press play.

"the new day dawns

and i am practicing my purpose once again

it is fresh and it is fruitful if i win but if i lose

oh i don't know

i will be tired but i will turn and i will go

only guessing 'til i get there then i'll know

oh i will know

all the children walking home past the factories

could see the light that's shining in my window as i write this song to you

all the cars running fast along the interstate

can feel the love that radiates

illuminating what i know is true

all will be well

even after all the promises you've broken to yourself

all will be well

you can ask me how but only time will tell

...keep it up and don't give up

and chase your dreams and you will find

all in time"

-All Will Be Well | Gabe Dixon Band

I woke up before the sun this morning and biked through gusts of wind and cold for almost an hour, inviting the Father of Lights to come shine on little me. Oh Amen and Amen, come closer still.

I decidedly took this bike ride for more reasons besides my inability to sleep in past six o'clock a.m. this morning. (and this may turn into a ritual. because yes, it was so good for my soul. my red stinging ears might tell you otherwise, but that is why ear muffs maybe on my shopping list this month)

Two days ago I found my head drawn into the toilet seat, mouth hanging open, throwing up chinese take-out my sister and I ate earlier. I don't know whether this may have been a result of a stomach bug, or if it was due to the weight of emotions I was bearing that day, but whatever it was, I felt horrible.

But this morning, despite a hard week, a smile is drawn on my face. gratitude. I feel grateful. Beyond my words, so very thankful. I feel aglow, the Lord is inexplicably good. I feel both a peace and an excitement amidst all the uncertainties of my life presently. And I don't know how, or when, but biking this morning did something to me that released me into that somehow. Maybe it was the fact that everyone was still in slumber when I tip-toed out of my garage, or the fact that I rode streets with absent cars, or the fact I could hear the roar of the wind flickering falling leaves all about. "All creation groans," and there I was joining with it. Maybe it was because while biking, I was "practicing my purpose once again," of simply being and breathing with Him, of coming into myself by leaning into my God. Maybe it was because I felt more present and fully awake to the things the Lord is calling me to. Maybe it was because I was understanding more profoundly the words of Paul when he says, "For this light and momentary affliction, is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison."

An eternal weight of glory. of glory. of wonder, of marvel, of beauty, of all that is good. Don't you love the juxtaposition Paul just used? Light affliction, weight of glory. Today I feel this weight shifting and moving all about in my soul. I have become keenly aware of the Lord's work in me, being transformed in His likeness, learning His ways, seeing more clearly, but still so dimly, His plans for my life.

So here I am, stretching out my open hands for the Good Lord to gift me with raisin cakes of grace. So that this grace can sustain me in the fight to live my life worthy of the One who has called me into His marvelous light. Again, I shall pray, Father of Lights, set Your face to shine upon me.

All will be well

You can ask me how but only time will tell.

being ready

I feel ready. For tomorrow. I'll be in a hustle and bustle no doubt, but I'll feel ready. It's like that feeling you get when you take the biggest breath you can before going underwater. You know you'll eventually run out of air when you get down under, but here it goes, I'll plunge! And down I go, holding my breath, attempting to swim, with so much courage to beat against my fears, I'll go.

Tomorrow is the day I'll come in for an orientation for my new job as a teacher assistant; and if I'm not mistaken, I'll fill out paperwork, and then. my very first. real. adult. job assignment. will be handed. to me. One more step closer to the realities of being in classrooms where I'm no longer the student. No more endless applications, no more nerve-racking interviews, no more waiting around for phone calls. No more. (well, sorta)

Tomorrow will feel like an inauguration of sorts. Hopefully, my strides down the echo-filled hallways will be marked with such grace, my speech will be distinguished with loads of charm (doubtful, I come very honest), and there will be an air of confidence about me. Wohoo!

Truth is, they're not ready for this wreck of a woman.

"I am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions." -Augusten Burroughs

I'm a mess most days. It might not appear so, but on the inside, I feel it. Good intentions, shine bright tomorrow, and every single working day after that, okay?

Hopefully my small quirks will be endearing, and I pray I bless someone tomorrow. Because Lord knows, it's a piece of heaven when you've been blessed by another. And in the workplace no less! It will be like manna. (manna for me, and manna for them)

here's to the plunge!

my carpenter; my laughter

This is my little nook. My apologies, it's hard to see (if you'd like, click here to see it up close).

After making some complaints about my previous desk, a certain mr. aaron decided he'd build me one, one that suited me. And it suits me well, let me tell youu! As it happens, I've developed an affinity for the place in which it sits- all because of this desk. I think I should call this favorited spot, "The Corner."

Today, I've finally settled into it. The smell of the varnish is still clinging on, and makes my room oh so aromatic.. mmmm.

You might be wondering what's with the outhouse cutout in the cabinet door, and why there are a total of five knobs screwed on. We decided an outhouse symbol was appropriate because this will be where I'll keep all my crap. I said crap! And the knobs? Well, it's just for style, because you know, if I have a desk, I need sumpin' to fit my steeze. Youuu know!

(many thanks to mr. aaron, my love and my personal carpenter.)

oh hi. this is me.

I invite you now into my thoughts:

There is nothing more satisfying than hearing a room burst with laughter the instant you make a joke. hahahaha! It's the zest of life! I think mostly because it usually happens when I am most myself. Catch me candid, please! And don't hold your breath, belt it out with bursts of air! Feel it big! And round! Feel it swoop down into your belly, and come out of the funnel that is your mouth, and indulge!

Why have these thoughts been roaming around my head? Because yesterday:

Yesterday I found myself sitting in front of a classroom acting as a panelist for a discussion on cultural differences. (though, I'm probably no more foreign than you are). I was incredibly nervous at the start, but after eliciting a response to a certain question, the knots in my gut were cut loose as people roared, doubling over in their seats. Thank you, thank you! I am in myself, and satisfied.

Aaron (the same mr. aaron) once told me, "Laughter reinterprets life." And so it does.

To me, it's joy, sealed in grace-- for such broken creatures, we've been endowed with the ability to experience such rapture.

So. Let's participate often in this divine providence. Let's laugh, and let ourselves go!

random, but funny, no?

hahahahaha

Life is only going... it just never thinks to stay. So why not take photos along the way? Why not write pages and pages on end recollecting our favorite memories?!

This is what's wonderful about jotting down the smaller stories of your day: you begin to be a better person. Yes. You really do. You become an avid admirer of people, of daily interaction, of small things that easily go unnoticed. You become a better story-teller I think too.

Oh I pray I be a librarian of memories! May I be fascinated by life, and awestruck daily!

Alright, so leave me now to my recollecting... (thank you).

Sometimes I get down.

A very long time ago, sometime when I was only a kid, I realized that angry people like to make other people angry, and that hurt people like to hurt people. I'm not exactly sure when this idea began to penetrate past my brainbox and pervade my way of handling conflict, but I think it changed me. For the good or for the worse, I do not know.

Most of you reading this (if you actually do) will wonder what is prompting this post, and will assume that today I am particularly down. And I'll admit it. I am feeling a bit down this morning... being twenty-two, with a bachelor's degree, living in the same house as your parents, and attempting to live a more adult life is... frustrating.

When I find the t-shirt I'm wearing wet with tears falling from my cheek, when I'm venting to a friend about my sadness, when I give myself a moment... it feels good. I often like to stay in that place because I am feeling some kind of intensity that ironically lets me feel more alive. I feel closer to my Jesus. Is that strange?

There is a 'however' though! However. instead of wallowing where my sorrows lie, I decided something different.

Instead of putting my energies on feeling disheartened about what I cannot do, I am doing what I can. What I can do is free myself to do the things that bring me joy.

I will dance when no one is looking.

bike. and bike father than I thought I could.

read a story.

build callouses on my finger tips from holding guitar strings.

sing as loud as I can with no worry of being heard.

write.

make something delicious.

listen to my Jesus when He speaks, or try to.

I will be capable of having joy.

and be free to love my enemies.

If I can't have my cake and eat it, I'll have nutella, and strawberries, sandwiched between a slice of sweet oat grain bread. And I shall eat it, and it will be good.

Life Currently: On Lessons.

Have you felt the fall breeze recently? Slowly blowing through, cool and crisp, I feel it coming.

It's been dawning on me that this past summer has been spent learning that life is full of lessons... and so I learn. And I tell myself, "Pay attention (to all the things that swirl around you, to every movement of your mind, body, soul; pay close attention)."

Of recent, I have found a love for routine. Once I realized that I actually had a few in place, I couldn't go back. It stole me. There is something very beautiful about having a routine, I think it speaks of faithfulness. My faithfulness to it, and its faithfulness to me. I wake up in the morning, make my bed, put toothpaste on my toothbrush, plop on the bathroom floor, and brush brush brush. That's my morning routine, and I love it. It's simple, but its

simplicity is what I'm taken by. It just feels so good to be faithful to something.

My routines are the few things in life presently that are left uninterrupted, and undisturbed. It's sacred to me as I am learning what it means to hold myself accountable to something that I intrinsically know is good for my soul. Who'd a thunk brushing your teeth could be so freeing?! It is for me. I could go on about how good routines are, how a rhythm keeps one present, how my routines have helped me see deeper into my truest self... but I shant. Mostly because

I'm still processing.

Summer, you were a deep breath for me, sometimes a huff of frustration, but nonetheless, thank you. Autumn, you are not yet.

And of course, a few photos:

love.

Not bad.

Sister fran.

Clementine did something very unlady like.

On Being and Doing

It is 4:17 in the morning.

Already a month into this summer, and so much has happened. I always feel like I experience much, but have very few words to articulate them. I shall attempt to divulge anyhow.

The past week I've been storming through my room, getting rid of all the things I've accumulated in the past 7 years. I found an assortment of old shirts, one including a top that had Alcatraz written on the front. How bizarre is that? What in the entire nation?! What young girl would want a shirt with the name of a place infamous for imprisonment and excommunication stamped on it?? Not I. I don't think I've ever worn it.

It tickled me to find little notes I'd written to myself sprawled on the margins of my many spiral-bound notebooks I've kept since my freshman year of college. They were embarrassing, encouraging, inspiring, silly... child-like. One read, "Jesus is in love with you," written with a pink marker and a rainbow drawn behind it. The only thing missing from it were unicorns.

It humbled me to say the least, as it gave me a more accurate perspective of my walk with the Lord these past few years. After being able to read through my old journals, and through all the pithy scribbles, a much predicted nostalgia came over me.

While most of my writings were comprised of bad theology, it didn't matter, it still produced in me an awe at the unadulterated zeal I carried in Christ Jesus.

And so, I am left longing to be recaptured by the Uncreated One again, to be drawn away and wooed. I am not talking about mere emotions of bliss and butterflies, but about the glances that become a gaze. It is a selah of sorts, to which the longing to be conquered by the Lover of my soul has stilled my busyness. Oh to be won over again and again! And oh to be reawakened to the scriptures that read, "For your Maker is your Husband - the Lord Almighty is His name - the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer, He is called the God of all the earth." Isaiah 54:5 Friends, I am quite smitten by this God.

In refocusing my affections on Jesus I've made efforts to do life a little bit differently than I have been. Many of us have heard the coined phrase, "We are human beings, not human doings." So cleverly thought of, and yet I think since the beginnings of humanity, we have been in the habit of compartmentalizing every facet of our lives, including the simple activities of being and doing. I realize though, if I were to separate the two, then I would be depriving myself of a holistic life that Jesus desires for me. I will even go so far as to say that it is imperative to do away with this particular distinction in order to live a life that embodies the one that Christ intended for us.

Stanely Hauerwas lectured on a similar theme about a month ago when I was in Pasadena, CA. Hauerwas explained that when one makes a habit out of an activity, one is not removed from the character of the activity itself, therefore, if the habit you are participating in is virtuous, you become virtuous. It's transforming. This is doing affecting being. On the other side of the coin, Hauerwas described that it is our own principles, desires, and virtue that affects the activities that we engage in - this time it is being affecting doing. The thing I gathered from this was that our being and doing are two parts of a whole, both interdependent on each other.

In Weight of Glory, C.S. Lewis points out a similar compartmentalization and calls for the same interdependence of sorts. Dealing with the differences between the sacred and the secular he writes, "All our merely natural activities will be accepted, if they are offered to God, even the humblest, and all of them, even the noblest, will be sinful if they are not. Christianity does not simply replace our natural life and substitute a new one; it is rather a new organisation which exploits, to its own supernatural ends, these natural materials." (my own emphasis included) He argues that it is not the activity we are engaging in that determines whether an activity is spiritual, but rather, it is the invitation to Christ to join us in our doing that makes our activity sacred. We are most definitely both physical and spiritual beings, and to invite Jesus into our doing allows us to settle into the very spiritual nature of our being. Practicing this is practicing a life of sacraments - the activity of God being present in our own activities.

This interdependence plays into the labor I offer as I serve those around me. There's an art to this, a discipline if you will. Too often I get into cycles where I am serving others because they asked me to, instead of letting my doing be an expression of my care for them. The emphasis here is the work I am producing, rather than my Person who is carrying out the certain deed. Viewing my service to others this way becomes detrimental as it puts value on my works rather than on who I am. A life lived like this begets a life lived after rewards. However, if my doing was no longer separated from my being, I would be doing away with my services being matters of my own worth, and restoring dignity to the human soul.

Before expounding on the restoration of the human soul, I must state that it is only by the grace of God that we have the means to serve anyone. Jesus is the full expression of the Father, He does as His Father wills. Friends, we are the expression of Jesus on the earth. For any person to serve another, that is a miracle, and it is by this Jesus we can. In light of the Person of Jesus who lives in us (John 14:20 "...I am in my Father, and you are in Me, and I am in you."), I give myself no credit if I produce anything good. I am merely the branch that carry's His fruit.

By living a life that practices doing and being simultaneously, we are restoring the kind of integrity Jesus calls us to, as He Himself embodies this too well. He did not come to solely bless us, but He gave us His Personhood. In this way, we are honoring God's Person in us and through us, not just His Divinity. This is what restores dignity to the human soul, by living in such a way that no longer puts worth on what we have done, but gives value to only One who is worthy, this God who we believe lives in us.

Thomas Merton wrote, "God is asking me, the unworthy, to forget about my worthiness and that of my brothers, and dare advance in the love which has redeemed and renewed us all in God's likeness. And to laugh, after all, at the preposterous idea of "worthi-ness." I know more clearly what he means by this.

My labor is now no longer a mere service, but it translates into something that is truly sacrificial, a true work of the Lord. My services are instead an offering of my very being. Yes, in the words of F. Buechner, we are called to be food and drink for one another. Let us be as Paul who, the scriptures say, poured himself out like a drink offering.

So. This is my new mantra: I honor the Lord who works through me, and the Lord who rests in you, restoring dignity.

Namaste in the Name of Jesus my beloveds.

Jesus, we invite you now. Amen.

On a much lighter note, here are some photos of my summer this far!

This guy comes home in 2 days.

I spent some time in RVA with Melissa and Carra, my favorites.

Look at that face!

Uh oh! Criminal behavior in cville!

Check this beauty out (yay for twinner)

Petting the horse. (as seen in photo)

This Good Friday

On this Good Friday, I am being still. (I am) painting in order to express something without words, and letting myself let go from all the dizzying thoughts on theology and scripture.

Sunday comes Easter, and here I meditate on the death of my God. If my God broke His own body and let Himself die, so to produce within Him a greater Life for all, how now then should I live?

Lately, I've been so consumed with being joined together in the likeness of His death (Romans 6:5). Things have been swirling around me this past week or so. Things that involve figuring out what comes next after I graduate in exactly two weeks, rearranging my thoughts on certain scriptures, and having to soon say a goodbye to some people as I leave this place in my my life. All these things are building up, and I just want the fears and anxieties that come along with them to die. Please die, die with Christ, so I can be raised in His Resurrection.

I am realizing I cannot stop the storms of life, but I can bring my Jesus into the picture. By doing so, He offers a stillness as I am knowing He is God. When I try to pay attention to what the Lord is doing in my life, and my understanding falls so short, I feel frustrated and sometimes so annoyed. To that, my Jesus speaks to me. haha He speaks to me!

C.S. Lewis described in Weight of Glory, in regards to academia, that it is not 'our knowing' that should become our focus, but 'what is being known'. I think this can be applied to my life presently. In my own attempts at figuring out the work He is doing in me, I am coming to terms that what is being known is more important. Oh joy! He is making Himself known in me!

Good Friday, you became Saturday...and Sunday is coming!

That's right. Death has no dominion, and this swirl of worry and fear, it holds no power over me. I want to live in the way of Death and Resurrection, being made fully alive in Him.

Jesus, I celebrate You in me.

Just a little thank you note

I'm sick and in bed. Feb 8. 8 things:

1. Journals, thank you for helping me remember again

2. Old saved letters, thank you for preserving the magic within a moment

3. Bed, your awesome for being such a comfort to me today

4. CapriSun, whoever designed you, I'm impressed, you're great for when lying in bed

5. Clementine, I think you farted a couple times while laying here with me.. thanks for the wonderful odors. NOT.

6. Dear Jesus, thank you for making me me. Eternally grateful.

7. Spring break, you're coming soon, I'm excited, I get to see my twinzie soonzies

8. March 18, you have the honor of being the day a certain somebody comes home, for that I am thankful

Adventure

It's a friday night and I stayed in. Listening to Beirut, eating chocolate cookies, and on my way to finishing up my thoughts on this thing called Adventure.

The past few weeks have been spent looking at grad schools and getting things together last minute for grad applications. Life is becoming more focused, more serious. All this anxiety has left me waking up with back aches and dry eyes from leaving in my contacts all night, it's given way to sleepless nights, and having to catch my breath as I feel my heart beating a hundred times a minute.

While Jesus takes me from my worries and brings me to His feet, I find myself in the midst of people, songs, and conversations centered around this reality of adventure.

The more I enter into the freedom of choosing, and letting my life take its shape, the more the Lord has been revealing to me how sinful it is to live otherwise. I was made for adventure. And we are to live wholly the way we were made, because if not, we are compromising the image of God in us. We are defacing our divine design.

Speaking of defacing, I stumbled on a friend's blog the other day and found a photograph of graffiti sprayed across a building. Its words formed the sentence, "Everyday we live under the violence of normalcy."

How true is this? I heard a story once that models this kind of violence pretty well. There was a Bear. This Bear was taken in captivity for a number of years and put in a cage. Every single day, the Bear would walk along the edge of its cage in a square. When he was finally released into the wilderness, he kept walking in a square, as if he was still confined by his cage.

We are just like this! Our vision is so short, and we cannot see past our nose! We are blind to the freedoms we do have, and our lack of imagination and dreaming have caused us to be bound by our own set of rules and boundaries. We trap ourselves under the systems of this world, governed by our own comforts and our false sense of security.

Howard Macy writes, "The Spiritual Life cannot be made suburban. It is always frontier, and we who live in it must accept and even rejoice that it remains untamed." It is an act of holy rebellion to break the mold we have set up for ourselves. I think we guide our lives by other people's expectations and societal norms, instead of paying attention to what actually makes us come fully alive.

There is a greater story to walk into, a destiny that involves "stepping into the current of God's will," as a certain Mister Aaron put it. Everyone has been uniquely designed and wired, and there's a way to marry that with your life's pursuits.

May I live a life that rebels against the expectations of others, and restores the image of God in me. I pray that I may fully submit to the Lord's will so that I may experience a greater freedom, so to get caught in the wind of His Spirit. Like a leaf, I will go where Your wind leads me. Give me grace to do this Jesus. And let me live with peculiarity, so that I may bring glory to the God who has marked me. In the name of the Father, Son, Holy Spirit, Amen and Amen.