Today = Zoo day with the counsin K's.

Kolleen mentioned she gets extra credit if she goes to the zoo. I asked what she has to do at the zoo. "Watch the elephants for an hour," she responded. Extra credit and elephants? Two of my favorite things!! How could I not help make it happen. Looks like Kate, Kolleen and I are headed to the zoo today. :)

FYI. Just checked the website and today is the last day before the ticket price goes up to the summer price (from $11.50, they go to $16.50).

It's a tradition.

Kristin and Barco started it all off long ago. But it's not a real visit from Sammy, unless we make one trip to the skate rink. Last night, we added one more night to the long trend, and one more female skater. ;) Miss Rach picked it up pretty quick if I do say so myself. Looking forward to having another skating buddy. :)




PS, some day I am going to be as good of a skater as my mom! Eh, who am I kidding, that is not going to happen.

PS. My Board. ^

To be frank:

This hurting, all life's hurting, sucks. But God, since it is and seems must be, let is grow something beautiful out of me.

A few more amazing images that inspire me and make me dream...

Beautiful bedrooms

Inspiring Living Spaces that make you want to grow, not whither away.




I'd like a loft bookshelf. :)

One life on this earth is all that we get, whether it is enough or not enough, and the obvious conclusion would seem to be that at the very least we are fools if we do not live it as fully and bravely and beautifully as we can.

-Frederick Buechner (thank you, Esther Swaty)

A few of the verses I read this morning. I'd like to say I was being set up, but I know a much better way to say it is He always provides what we'll need for the day.

Psalm 136
1 Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good.
His love endures forever.
2 Give thanks to the God of gods.
His love endures forever.
3 Give thanks to the Lord of lords:
His love endures forever.
4 to him who alone does great wonders,
His love endures forever.
5 who by his understanding made the heavens,
His love endures forever.
6 who spread out the earth upon the waters,
His love endures forever.
7 who made the great lights—
His love endures forever.
8 the sun to govern the day,
His love endures forever.
9 the moon and stars to govern the night;
His love endures forever.

10 to him who struck down the firstborn of Egypt
His love endures forever.
11 and brought Israel out from among them
His love endures forever.
12 with a mighty hand and outstretched arm;
His love endures forever.

13 to him who divided the Red Sea[a] asunder
His love endures forever.
14 and brought Israel through the midst of it,
His love endures forever.
15 but swept Pharaoh and his army into the Red Sea;
His love endures forever.

16 to him who led his people through the wilderness;
His love endures forever.

17 to him who struck down great kings,
His love endures forever.
18 and killed mighty kings—
His love endures forever.
19 Sihon king of the Amorites
His love endures forever.
20 and Og king of Bashan—
His love endures forever.
21 and gave their land as an inheritance,
His love endures forever.
22 an inheritance to his servant Israel.
His love endures forever.

23 He remembered us in our low estate
His love endures forever.
24 and freed us from our enemies.
His love endures forever.
25 He gives food to every creature.
His love endures forever.

26 Give thanks to the God of heaven.
His love endures forever.



Psalm 138
Of David.
1 I will praise you, LORD, with all my heart;
before the “gods” I will sing your praise.
2 I will bow down toward your holy temple
and will praise your name
for your unfailing love and your faithfulness,
for you have so exalted your solemn decree
that it surpasses your fame.
3 When I called, you answered me;
you greatly emboldened me.

4 May all the kings of the earth praise you, LORD,
when they hear what you have decreed.
5 May they sing of the ways of the LORD,
for the glory of the LORD is great.

6 Though the LORD is exalted, he looks kindly on the lowly;
though lofty, he sees them from afar.
7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble,
you preserve my life.
You stretch out your hand against the anger of my foes;
with your right hand you save me.
8 The LORD will vindicate me;
your love, LORD, endures forever—
do not abandon the works of your hands.


PS, where would we be if there was no Psalms in the Bible? I think I'd be lost and forlorn. I'd have given up long ago, or been convinced I was given up on.

THIS IS NOT MY LIFE.


The above is what I dream of, but it is not my life. Not today. Yesterday was a bad day at work. We've had so many good ones the past few months, I forgot that when it's bad, it is bad. I worked an extra hour. Went home, ate, brushed my teeth, got in bed, picked up my book and was asleep by 8:30pm. This morning, I still needed coffee, bad. My sister and I caught the same elevator up, and we encouraged one another for the day, hoping it would be better. Today, yesterday looks pleasant. But thankfully, the terror shouldn't last past 9:30am. But yes, today... not going to be easy. We were greeted at the front desk, before even clocking in, with the sort of storm we were going to have to weather, yet again. Yesterday, "working with your sister" made it a bit tougher, hopefully today we do better at making it a strength and support.

For some reason, this picture (below) brings me peace. I have my worship playing, more coffee at hand, and a peace that overcomes pain, stress, heartaches, allergies, rude callers, promises and hopes delaying, mean bosses and bad days. Whatever it is for you today, find the peace that surpasses all understanding. The photo below might help you too. ;) It makes me think of the post I read last night by John Acuff (can you tell I'm on a bit of a trend lately?), his article "The Soft X" describes those seasons in life where things aren't going as we dreamt, and in all our hurt and frustration God responds gently, "I know, my son, I know" - just as Israel did to Joseph, when he bestowed the blessing on the other son, and everything turned as he didn't expect.

Acuff described it, "I think of the tenderness of Israel with his arms outstretched and crossed. I think of our desires and our dreams and the times they don’t work. And above all, I think of a God who wants to tell you he hears you, he loves, he knows you. He is not disconnected or disinterested in who you are and who you want to be. Today, he says,

“I know, my son, I know.”

Another wonderful weekend. Family, friends, nature, the city, concerts, coffee, food, drinks! A busy weekend, but a wonderful one.

Kristin and I worked late on Friday. It was nearly six, the office had been cleared out for hours and she finally walked up to my desk and said, "Sister. This is ridiculous. We are leaving." Being the little sister I am, I said something witty like, "Okay."

We drove over to Capital Hill and wandered until we found a spot in the sun. Barrio. She likes Mexican food, I like Capital Hill... it worked out. We sat and enjoyed some very clever drinks (I hate it when you taste the other person's and realize they made a way better selection than you), soaked up the sunshine like a couple of ex-convicts and chatted. (I also added another set of doors to my collection- aren't those cool?)

I spent the remainder of my evening brushing up my CV and submitting it for a job I spotted on craigslist that would allow me to pretty much live the life I love, and call it work. I'm becoming more intentional in seeking out opportunities to truly do what I love and feel called to do, write.

Friday night Kristin sent me an "out text." She was giving me an opportunity to bail on our morning plans as she realized how tired I was going to be by the end of Saturday. I replied, "Pick you up at 5:30a." Neither of us are good at quitting. At 7:10am, we began our climb up Mount Si. We were 4 shots of espresso for the better and a few hours of sleep. The sun was lighting up a gorgeous blue sky and we were feeling, sore! (Thank you soccer!)

We made it up 3.5 miles and then finally determined we had to stop. The snow was still too much, and it was hard packed and icy. We just weren't going to make it. We'd already been trekking through it (very slowly) and sliding all over for a quarter of a mile. What made it worse is Kristin's wrists are still injured from when I decided we should longboard down a hill last weekend (or the weekend before?)... so she'd slide, and go to grab a tree and hurt herself all the more. Kind of funny, normally. Except that our parents yelled at me for her fall (like I'd pushed her!?) and I kept imagining the trouble I'd get in if I brought her home injured again.
The last time, I'd walked down stairs and Kristin goes "I through you under the bus. Sorry." I think her explanation to my parents had started something like "Little sister made me do it..." Awesome. This time, if she fell down that mountain, I was going too. Ain't no way I was going to stride in the door looking fine, with her limping behind. Oh no. So, instead, I'd been stressing, walking behind her, praying she doesn't slip or pass out for some reason, or get charged by a bear or mountain lion or small wandering puppy. We reached the bottom, safely, but without having seen the view from the top. We will be back soon.

We returned to her place, took a short nap (short!), I showered, changed, ran to Maltby, chopped the hair (Oh yeah, it's gone!) and headed off to the next grand adventure.

I'd been looking forward to the 23rd for weeks and weeks. Rose's 30th birthday was coming up and when I heard Mindy Smith would be at the Triple Door, I snagged a couple tickets. I found a way to nonchalantly reserve that evening on her calendar for a birthday surprise... and yesterday at 4:30, we set off to Seattle. I love that woman so much. Her friendship has become a gift over the past couple years and I really wanted to do something special to mark this point in her life. We got coffee from her favorite roasters/cafe (Cafe Vita), at a location she'd not yet been to. We wandered in the rare sunny Seattle weather, and then drove over to the Triple Door.

I know I am my Father's child, because last week when Rose messaged me that Mindy was playing at Mars Hill's Easter Service, I totally played into it, all the while having the tickets for the night before. Then, as we were driving to Seattle I was telling Rose about how I'd just missed getting tickets for the Civil Wars at the Triple Door and she said "LB, we've gotta go to another show at the Triple Door, together sometime." I smiled and agreed.
After our downtown wandering, we were looking for a parking spot and I determined to just park next door to the venue. As we drove by it, she goes "Let's see who's playing tonight-- Mindy Smith!" And I smiled and pulled into the parking garage and said "Happy Birthday." With the following reaction to the surprise, Rose just earned a spot on my "Fun to surprise list" for sure. I encourage you all, find a way to surprise her, you will enjoy it more than she does even. We then spent the evening enjoying good food, good wine, good music and a great friendship. It was definitely worth looking forward to all this time, and time with her reminded me all over again that she is definitely worth celebrating!

Sunday was Easter and time with my family. I remembered two things all over again. A: I love my family. B: We are out of control. C: We are not for the weak of heart or humor. I am happy to report that both of our guests survived. Also, my mom is an amazing cook.

(PS, I can count- please don't leave comments about how that was three things.) ;)

The Civil Wars are playing at the Triple Door... I found this out too late. Now, there is only standing room. A month ago I found out The Head and the Heart were going to be in town.... I was on the phone so quick. The tickets sold out quicker.

Missing tickets to a show = a terrible feeling.

Might I also add, back before Mumford and Sons were all the rage, a friend of mine had let me in on the secret. I would have sold my dog to see them play live! I found out they were coming, after the tickets were sold out. And that was before the huge fuss: I don't expect tickets will be easy (or cheap!) to snag now. :L

That all said, I DO have some excellent concert tickets stored away. ;)

Though they may kill me. Here is an excerpt from a google chat I just enjoyed. I'm sharing this, because I believe it will change your life. Or at least, your day. I have concealed their identity for my protection.

Person: Happy Easter!!!
Confession, I dressed up like a bunny this morning
me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
at work?
Person: in my defense it was one of
my manager's costumes that was hidden in her desk
me: LOL!
Person: I
hopped around like a bunny for a bit. I will leave you with that.

Last night, as I was falling asleep, a train of thoughts lead me to my favorite morning coffee drink. We call it my "morning drink" -- or, we called it that. In the mornings, after completing all of our tasks (with Theresa)... or not (with Aaron), we'd make ourselves a drink to help wake up. Trust me, few things are worse then an uncaffeinated barista at 4am. I can't actually order that drink, without sounding like a very stuck up jerk. And truth is, I don't think any barista could make it just right for me anyways. But both Theresa and Aaron could, and I suddenly started missing them terribly, and my early opening mornings with both of them. I love that I still get to see them both occassionally (along with my other Starbucks peeps). But, I don't get to enjoy that experience with them any more, nor will I ever, and that sometimes makes this very sentimental little girl, very sad.

I had actually forgotten about my last shift at Starbucks, but last night it came back to memory. I had been scheduled to close with a stranger (a borrowed partner), and she was a jerk. Really, one of the top two worst shifts I ever worked. I'm sure I wasn't the most pleasant thing either, being my last shift, and no one I knew to say goodbye to. I'd written my goodbye note on a piece of paper and left it on the back desk, as my eyes were filling with tears and this stranger was huffing and puffing at me to get out so she could lock the doors. I walked out, and walked to my car without a word to the girl. I got in my car, locked the doors, put my head on the steering wheel and bawled like a baby for 10 minutes. I'm not good at goodbyes. Turns out I'm even worse without them.

Sorry for the sentimental sad post, but wanted you all to know I love and miss you... and T and Aaron, I especially miss my opens with each of you: music blasting (T-Swift, Country, Disney, random whatever with you T), and Fields of Gold (how it always came on, I'm not sure!) with Aaron. I miss tying on my apron as you flick on the lights and unlock the door and we hope that we get to see Chris and his sweet old dog before we have to see crazy lady... and we wait for Susan, who's been in her car out front for an hour to put down her book and blackberry and come in for to order her "almost coffee." And I especially miss you handing me my delicious morning drink, in a for-hear cup, with the breve all resting atop. I even miss the rough mornings when T knew to give me a hug, and Aaron knew to give me a short cup of amazingness that somehow made things better!!

Miss you all. And I am so proud of where you each are at, and that is what helps me be content to say goodbye to where we all were, together. Besides, summer is rolling around the corner and we have some marshmallows to roast at Alki (I think we all agree to not try them again in Aaron and Andy's oven!! lol).

Love you guys... Aaron, T, Ryn, Cristie, Megs and on... (I don't think any other 352ers reads this..)

PS, see how you are? ;)

Okay, I know I gave you two posts from him yesterday, but this morning I clicked over to "Stuff Christians Like" and was laughing through his #1000 - Lists. When I made it to the end, and decided to click on the story behind "29. Middle finger of grammar: When you lowercase satan on purpose," I thought I'd somehow managed to click the wrong link. The story that followed didn't seem to match up. This is what I found, and it seemed so strange and yet completely timely for what I've been processing, I had to share it here. I've talked to a number of friends who are in a similar season right now of feeling like this is the time to really do what they were created to do, of life and dreams becoming practical and real and their everyday life. It's like the game has suddenly heated up for us all. And there's these pressures that seem to make us want to let go or stop, and others that seem to be compelling us to move and give. And finding which are God and which are not is a real challenge, because He does often call us to surrender and to lay things down, but He also calls us to press through and on. It's a matter of hearing His voice amidst a lot of noise and (genuinely well-meant) opinions.


#271. Being afraid to use our gifts.
June 3, 2008 in serious wednesdays with 82 Comments

I saw Maya Angelou one time on TV. (If the question is, “were you watching the Martha Stewart show?” The answer is sadly enough, “yes.”) Angelou is perhaps America’s most treasured living poet and is known the world over for her ability to write and speak.

What was interesting about the short interview was that at one point in her life Angelou did not speak. In fact, from the ages of 7-13, she was a voluntary mute. Not a word escaped her lips, even when an elementary teacher tried to slap her face hard enough to make her speak. You see, Angelou was molested as a child. When the man passed away, she thought she had killed him with her voice. So from that point on she did not speak.

There are probably a million good ideas within the sadness of this tale but the one that struck me most was the lesson about gifts. Angelou’s strongest passion, the thing she would call her reason to be, is her words. She is a public speaker, an orator that has moved presidents and even nations at times. And yet for six years she did not share a single word.

Her gift was stolen. Perhaps only temporarily, but it was stolen nonetheless. Maybe you’ve got a gift too that has been stolen. I think that happens more than we like to admit. Maybe there’s some hurt associated with that gift. You’re a musician that could never please your father so you gave up the piano. An artist whose work caused pain somehow so you gave up the paint brushes. I don’t know how it happened to you, but because I write this blog, I’ll tell you how it happened to me.

I used to use my words to interact with girls online. I used to post funny things, or insightful things in hopes that my approval addiction would get fed in some way. I even started sending out long, bibly emails to friends from church in hopes that they would tell me how holy I was. I misappropriated my greatest gift in a selfish desire to feed my massive ego and numb my wounds.

After a while, I realized what I was doing and decided to never do that again. The easiest way was to simply stop writing. The way I could control it in my own power was to quit writing. I might have scribbled in a journal, but the swirling and twisting storm of words that seethed inside remained silent. My gift was stolen. There were too many thorn bushes planted by my one talent. I didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

I eventually couldn’t contain it any longer. The words inside me felt like soldiers dying inside a submarine that was running out of air. I asked God if I could write again. I asked him if he was cool with me writing, given my less than proud past. The answer was not what I expected. It was actually pretty simple. I felt like he said, “Do you know what I do when you write? I sing.”

That’s the truth. I think we know that when we use our gift to hurt ourselves or others we understand that satan is winning. (I just gave him the middle finger of grammar by lower casing the s!) But I think satan wins too when we refuse to use our gift at all. He loves to attack our gifts that matter most, the most. And when we lock them tightly in a chest under our bed, he wins.

So here’s my blog. And there’s your gift, waiting to be used. Don’t let it be stolen. You might have damaged it and bruised it in the past. Someone close to you may have tried to snuff it out.

But it’s there. Tired of being silent, desperate to sing.

We had our first non-loss tonight!! Woohooo. Two assists (that were beautiful if I do say so myself!) and two missed goals (and one taken away that I don't think I really was offside on, but eh). Tonight was fun! We were all pretty excited for this new experience, in fact my muscles are all so excited I hear them talking about taking tomorrow off...

Yep, everything is seizing up.... ibuprofen, ice, stretching... oh how I feel like.. a less-young-woman about now. ;) Especially since I've been day dreaming about sleep since 6am.

This man never fails to make me laugh... Stuff Christians Like #998

Thank you Jon Acuff for bringing me into the mind of a church-going married man for a moment, as you see it...skinny jean, v-neck worship leaders and thin-mint dreamers. :)

He also tends to convict and encourage me through his combining of humor and honesty: #999

I went back to the start of my blog and was reading through old stories, and my first days at UW. I know I have reposted this blog before, but it is one of my favorites and always makes me laugh as I remember that evening. This is one of the best examples of my family... the big and small details of all that is happening in this moment. If you know us well, you can't help but laugh as you picture it... http://katrinahope.blogspot.com/2006/11/funny-story.html

I like Strawberry pop-tarts. There, it's out there. (I like this organic pomegranate kind my sister finds even better!) This morning, I had to come into work a couple hours early. So, I decided I wanted some pop-tarts.

I just remembered them, about 30 minutes or so after I put them in the toaster. I just went into the kitchen to look at what I expected to be cold, burnt pop-tarts.... nope, apparently I forgot about them before I even pushed the toaster actually down. :/ Weird morning.

Mmmm, I smell strawberry pop-tarts!

I'm back, have been for a couple days I guess, but I've felt I should say something and don't exactly know what or how. I felt I should have all my questions answered before returning to blogging, but I don't. But I do have an adjusted perspective and starting point, and a renewed vision to be writing. My perspective and life had turned in quite a lot and I wasn't living out of the central point of bringing God glory, and loving Him and others first. I'd become selfish, again. So, I'm back renewed, adjusted, refreshed.

As for writing, I feel I know less than ever about some things. How much to say, how vulnerable to be, what topics to discuss, if I even should be blogging. Scratch that last one, that is the one answer I think I do know now. I looked over at my 'archives' the other day and thought back to all the writing I've done here since 2006. Masters Commission tour, 4 years of college, graduation, applying to Cambridge (and not getting in), starting full-time work, a handful of friends weddings, now babies, so many changes and revelations, ponderings, free-writes, silly stories, tear-full paragraphs. One of the greatest lessons I learned from SLT, or rather from my facilitator, Jon Pinkston is the value of little things done faithfully over the years. Blogging has been one for me. Sometimes I worry I am pracitcing bad habits, and there might be something there for me to change, but overall blogging and the consistent writing it has provoked has helped shape my writing, making me comofortable with it, better at communicating a clear thought, organizing it, and being willing to offer it. And it has helped shape me.

I've never before been so aware though of all the opinions on writing, and how much is too much to share. I've also never felt I share too much. If anything, I tend to feel I struggle to really share the things that matter. But the other side to this is that I don't care to write things that don't matter. Writing should bring joy, or depth, deep tears, or a laugh, if it doesn't inspire something new in you, or remind you of something you'd managed to forget, what is the point of it? We don't read to discover what we've always known, or what everyone knows. We want to read something that changes us, provokes us, inspires us and challenges us. We want to travel to new places when we read. And so a writer must be willing to step out into those new places, before anyone else and bring others there. But there are so many perspectives on this, and I think much if it is connected to the different callings and personalities of people. I've been seeking the Lord as to what is His will with my writing. Art is vulnerable, it always has been and always will be, and when you create, you become transparent. I remember I hated dance practices in MCs, I felt naked in front of everyone with all that I was processing. I often cried through them. It seems strange, especially to a girl who so enjoyes dancing, but art makes you vulnerable, and you have to be willing to be seen. Those dances were also some of the most life-changing times of my year - letting the Lord work His ways all the way through me.

This week, as I was praying about a lot of this, I suddenly remembered one of the words I was given at the encounter retreat a couple years ago. Someone gave me an easel, and said, "You have to be willing to be on display." They explained how they felt the Lord was telling me I had to allow Him to display my artwork and create with Him, and also how I had to be willing to allow Him to display me as the artwork. The words from the rest of the leaders were all very similar. Amazing how a word like this can come back 2 years later and confirm something amidst all your doubts. The past two years have been a growing journey of willingness to be seen, to allow others to know me, and to discover how to write what matters. I don't care to tell all, but even as I was struggling through the value of mystery (something I've always wanted to hold on to), a friend reminded me, It's all about God revealing His glory through us. So that is what it comes down to, keeping my focus and motivation in bringing Him glory, and partnering with Him in whatever He is doing. And so, I am here again, writing. And whatever you find of me in this, I hope it draws you to Him. Transparency requires a willingness to be seen, but even more than that, it requires a willingness to be seen-through.

(Ha, amazing. In writing this, I think I finally got my answers. And that makes me think all the more how walking in our calling is most often the very route God is waiting to speak to us on. It is in finally making the choice to just do it, not because I felt like it, but because I know that I was created and called to write that He spoke to my heart's questions and confusion.)

So as not to cause concern: I'm taking some time off from blogging. A few days at least. Focusing and fasting, and practicing being still & listening. Love you all.

:)

Listening to some good music. And looking forward to purchasing my copy of Novalis's upcoming album. I miss the feeling of a summer evening at a Novalis concert. Even if we are all packed into Chop Suey and roasting alive. ;)

PS, not plugging for them. I really do just like them... lol.

“She waited for the train to pass. Then she said, “I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while.” — Haruki Murakami, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman (via liquidnight) (via loverscarvings)

Hagia Sophia, Istanbul (532-537 AD) I miss history of architecture courses. :(

I discovered a girl in our book club who doesn't like Shakespeare. I'm trying to not judge her as a person.

But I get to pick our next book, and I'm having a VERY hard time resisting the urge to make her read a Shakespearean play. When I suggested it, her face contorted like she'd swallowed a bug. When I asked her about it, she said, "Well, I tried reading The Tempest once. I didn't like it." WHAT?! Tempest or not, how can one be so easily deterred from Shakespeare? Ever heard of Hamlet, Romeo & Juliet, A Mid-Summer Night's Dream, The Taming of the Shrew, Othello? COME ON!? I think admittance to any book club should require that you have at least read the entirety of one of Shakespeare's plays. You can all thank the Lord that I do not lead a book club, there would probably be an application form one would have to fill out.

A. Do you like Shakespeare? Please list your top two plays and why.
B. Please list three other authors you have read (and enjoyed) and a short paragraph on the highlights of each.
C. In one paragraph (concision is critical), please describe what you would like to gain from being a member of this book club.
D. Please list out your baking abilities, starting at your greatest feats.)


Please note this is all in play (*pun*). I am enjoying all of my fellow book-club members, especially this non-Shakespearean one. Give me a year anyways, I'll win her over to Stratford-upon-Avon. ;)

A couple more dream images for designing my one day home.

This kitchen is a dream! Granted, I know those floors would be a nightmare for cleaning... but this look is incredible! And I LOVE the spiral stairs. And I DREAM of having some massive brick wall in my home, add large windows and it's a done deal.
(But I could do without the blue floors- and the entire interior decoration really)

I'd love this chair-- right now. (I'd take the light too!)

MORE beautiful stairs :)

I just found the below photo and comment on a blog (no further comment of mine needed- even note the name hehe):

Dearest future husband,

Take me dancing.Take me to lessons, take me often, then grab me away from doing the dishes and dance with me.

Love,

Kat

I DO love this guy.

I just read his blog post on "Pre-blessed food" and it made me love him all the more. Talent AND humility, and the capability to clear the air, make a convicting point, and all the while do it in such an honoring and humble way... yeah, not enough of those folk around. Save this link, and next time you're bored, wander on over to http://www.juliansmith.tv/.

I was having dinner with a dear wonderful friend (so amazed I can call you my friend, Linda) the other night. And it suddenly struck me anew why I love literature. There are those seasons in our lives where we can't really say what we are feeling. We can't put our finger on it for ourselves, let alone communicate it in a way as to bring another into the midst of it with us, no matter how much we might be longing for a friend to know and help share that burden or heartache. We don't know how to fix it or change it. In these times, it is rare that the right 'teaching' book can be found to help us navigate the season. It can happen, but I feel in these particular (and thankfully rare) seasons, it doesn't happen much. No. It is something more real and more deep in our being than any teaching can quite reach. We need a picture. We need a story, so well crafted in another world that it somehow reaches into the depths of our spirit and heart, and it tells us where we are. I'm amazed by the power of fiction and fantasy. In those seasons, we need the right story to be told us. And somehow, in the midst of being lost in this other world, we learn the lessons and hear just the right words we needed, but could have never known we needed. Those of you who have had this happen, you understand. Those of you who have not yet, I'm not sure I could find any persuasive and eloquent way to open this experience up to you. But I hope to one day write a book that meets you in just one of those seasons, and changes your world. For me right now, it is Alice in Wonderland. Who would have thought that this book of nonsense would speak so much wisdom to my heart? I sat alone in Starbucks, laughing and giggling, over the humor, over the brilliance, over the nonsense, over how much it was speaking to me. She is teaching me lessons I could have never learned from Francis Chan or Watchman Nee. She is teaching them to my heart.

Cool room. Okay, it's mostly the books, door and floor that get me. ;)

I love feet pictures. I love elephants. :)

Oh Shakespeare. How I love thee.

"I believe in hope and laughter and things spun from sugar and the dream that I can one day wake up and be seamlessly graceful. I believe in bumping knees and cracking knuckles and crinkling eyes and bare feet and eyes deep with color and scrawled words and sketches and etched meaning. I believe in God and suburbia and magazines sopping with water when it rains and spaghetti dinners and pastel colored tablecloths. I believe in books, thick and hardbacked with soft pages and full words. I believe in the inescability of love and I believe in palms creased and fingers pressed and hands swinging in some motion that does not at all feel shallow. I believe in pizza and fruit punch and hot chocolate and singing loud and clear and unwavering. I believe in pretending that I’m a beautiful dancer. I believe in wearing ski hats indoors and big green fleece blankets and board games and family and the generalities and the details of it all. I believe in words and cherry Popsicles and sharpened pencils. I believe in love, not now but one day. I believe in myself and you, whoever or where ever you are, or who you one day may be, or who you are now finding, or who you love, or what you love. I believe in the core of you, the smiles and words and feelings that compose you, and I believe in some connection, weak and wavering but present, within us all." Written by AWordNerd.

Actual Children’s Answers to The Question “What Is Love?”

“Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.” - Chrissy, age 6

“Love is what makes you smile when you’re tired.” - Terri, age 4

“Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.” - Danny, age 7

“Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss.” - Emily, age 8

“Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.” - Bobby, age 7

“If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,” - Nikka, age 6

“Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.” - Noelle, age 7

“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.” - Tommy, age 6

“During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn’t scared anymore.” - Cindy, age 8

“My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don’t see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.” - Clare, age 6

“Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.” - Elaine, age 5

“Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Brad Pitt.” - Chris, age 7

“Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.” - Mary Ann, age 4

“I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.” - Lauren, age 4

“When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That’s love.” - Rebecca, age 8

“When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.” - Karen, age 7

“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.” - Jessica, age 8

Text From HarlemInk\

Last night I layed down for a late nap. I woke up this morning in my clothes from yesterday. Helly Fleece and all. I do at some point remember getting a text, and my mom coming in to ask if I was feeling okay and tell me she made me my (current) favorite salad. I was convinced I was going to be getting up and going over to Tif's to bake snacks for homegroup and told my mom I'd be up soon for some dinner too. Nope. Woke up at 5:20am, fell back asleep for another hour... I slept for 11 hours last night. I have been tired. And it has been showing, I haven't quite been myself. Or rather, I've been too myself. I've been emotional, and needy, and insecure... and while I've been aware of it and tried to ignore it and not let it get out... it still has enough to embarass me. Oh Lord, teach me to live by Your strength and Your power, that isn't contingent on any circumstance in my life, or proportional to the hours of sleep I get.

This morning, I'm feeling deeply humbled. And I'm realizing, grace is sometimes realizing that your faith isn't as strong as you thought, your trust has grown pale, your love has been overshadowed by lesser loves, somehow your passion has grown cold or warm, and your vision isn't really in-vision at all at the moment.

It's been months since I've fed a hungry person, or given something I thought I needed to someone who needed it more. I don't want to live a comfortable life, consuming all that I want, thinking it is mine simply because it came in my paycheck. And the things I am doing out of obedience, things I should be rejoicing over, and pouring my heart into, I'm not. I'm just doing. How am I cold to these things? They were once my passion! How do I trip the wire again? Because I could take my lunch break today and walk down a few blocks and start feeding people, or find some other 'selfless' thing to do, and maybe that is what I need to do, but I don't want to force this change in myself, I want Father to do what needs to be done in me. I don't want to be the one running the scene. I know no one wants to feel like a pawn, but right now, I'd rather be a pawn in a master strategy that is destined to conquer, than a fool who doesn't even understand what moves he can and cannot make. Grace is the Holy Spirit, opening our eyes to our utter desperation for Him. Grace is being humbled, and even feeling humiliated by ourselves. Oh God, change my heart, and be made a fortress in my mind. I deserve death and damnation, and yet you give me grace and hope, and a part in Your plan to restore.

I want to go to Cannon Beach. I want it to be sunny and warm, digging my toes into the sand, preparing myself for the sunset. Firewood, drinks, marshmallows and a blanket nearby.