Seeds are Miracles

It takes a long time to grow.

There are plants in the (prop)agation house that would like to prove me wrong.
Their eager heads raise out of warm soil & they are readily taking in sun & water so as to quickly reach that point where they will settle their roots for the season into soil under larger skies. It's amazing to me how quickly they germinate & pace out a rhythm of gaining inches of height. They will bring about the fruit they were made to bear in 9 short weeks or so.

My nephew walked into the room today & I saw him as the little man he is becoming.
All 18 months of him in a striped polo & jeans, his hair swept off his forehead.
I cried out in delight of him as he smiled to see my familiar face.
There is more boy in him now than baby. 9 months he was growing under his momma's skin & then 9 months more plus another 9 brings him so quickly to being a boy among us, learning quickly & testing limits. Finding his way to communicate with this big world & each of us. He would like to say I'm wrong about slow growth too, if he could say things with words :)

But I see a different story in myself.
I look back over 32 years & the journals I've filled, the photos I've taken, the experiences that have shaped & keep shaping.
It's taken so much time to grow this far, and now today I've seen it again
- there is so much more to grow in.
I have much yet to learn.

 All this work with seeds & soil has me in the midst of a tender analogy.
Prepared lovingly by God's awful grace driving it's tines like a broadfork down though the compacted parts that I try to keep for myself, is this soil-of-heart.
The Love needs to get all the way down in there so the seeds of trust & obedience can grow fruitful; can grow as He intends.
All the seeds planted in this good heart-soil,
these seeds are miracles.

This Rain

There are the signs of changing seasons that are meant to be reveled in.
Meant to be delighted in for what they are: distinctive

That smell as I walked out into a wetted world, one of those glory smells. 
Just glorious!
It catches me off guard & my gasp turns into smile.
That's not a scent that I can recreate or pull up in memory any time I want.
Yet I know exactly the smell of rain-damped macadam in the spring.

And I love taking time to love that. To notice such a detail.

So I walk home in the night on purpose:
guitar in one hand, umbrella in the other; content. 
And I leave my window open for a few minutes tonight so I can lay here in the dark and hear this noise: rain.

Falling & striking; soaking & filling; washing & rushing

#flashbackpost

#geminthedraftfolder

My memories of most things come in pictures.
It makes sense really. We talk in detail about the brain this week in class. How it's all this insanely intricate web of neurons firing every second of every day, even while I am asleep - albeit slower.
So I am right brained, yes. Not a problem.
I like my multi-tasking. I like my crafty, my music, my pictures.

I have tangible pictures that aid this brain of mine as well. I capture small clips of days, of weekends, of people - even conversation lingers through moments caught that now associate with images.

Yet.
It must be said:
that every moment cannot be captured.
that some moments need to be lived without trying to pin them down with photographs.

They must simply be lived.

Left Wanting

In the midst of a low grade fever as we drove away from the conference through Dallas traffic I had that thought: the one that is completely peaceful about leaving a good thing yet tied up so desperately with wanting to just stay.

It has a lot to do with my wants.

I don't want to walk away from such enriching time spent in worship & the Word without actually being enriched. Without the revealing of God that I came right up to the edge of, changing me in some big way. I told her this morning, that I felt like a sponge that can't hold anymore, yet there's more to be had. I could listen to each of those men speak again & again those same words from the Word & their heart after Jesus.

I don't want to be so fully restful & so fully pierced without understanding that I have to let it change my life. I wrestle with not doing enough, yet truly what it might be
is a fringe recognition of my self not wanting to be disciplined enough to Learn.
Not wanting:

To be a bold speaker of Truth while allowing my sin & weakness to be plain as the nose on my face so that God gets Glory for any particle of good that others find in me.

Not wanting:
To have such a lasting impression of my own sin & need of Christ's righteousness that it changes me & humbles me; eliciting a hunger in me that makes those without it uncomfortable.

Not wanting:
To see inspiring hope, joy & peace where there is suffering, real suffering that you can't fix or walk away from and you don't want to really,  because you know it'll be so. good. In the End.  

But you see, don't you? That's what I want.

LACK

No, I haven't just gone to IKEA - though I'm not opposed to wandering around in there for hours - I just feel that word defined in my life.Like a heaviness I let it come all into my space & I let it sit there on my lap.
Lack of connection with friends
Lack of money
Lack of time

I look up the definition again - lack |lak| noun
and being without or not having enough is exactly what I am NOT.

Without even listing all that I have or am, I am brought face-front to this:
Doesn't Jesus satisfy? Am I not completed in His life, death & resurrection?

Yes, 
yes He does and 
yes, 
yes I am. 

I dry tears of false hollowness off my face &resolve to remember this.
Truth must prevail in my life; my everyday.

Outside of a Morning

Mornings this week have found me up just after dad has left for work & prior to all others waking. Granted, the 24 hr gas station/mini mart just over the fence never sleeps, but there are morning hours where it's muted at best (or chances are I've become a bit desensitized to the car-door-slamming, engine-revving, loud-talker hubbub)

In those minutes of time I don't watch the clock, I just step out my door.
It's cooler there in the still dewy part of day. It's refreshing.
I love how the gardens pull me close; inviting.
I allow my easily-distracted self free reign
beans are found that need watering
so I water them
carrots are remembered
so I pull them
spider's web is stretched across space
so I scout out its inhabitant
thoughts of what will grow next year
so I scan the beds: dreaming, envisioning

I am waking up in this; to the day via this slow, curious work
Even as the gardens are put to bed for winter-time slumber

How deep the goodness I tread in - my awareness in thankful breaths
grows
It doesn't have to last forever for me to enjoy it fully right now.

Cutting our Losses

It's just a simple lesson, that involves a simple loss. 
When you aren't redundant in backing thing up, you run the risk of losing.

And so I thank God it wasn't wedding photos already paid for & irreplaceable
or priceless pics of a nephew being born into the world once & only once.

But still
I mourn the images of fireworks exploding color
friend next to friend, content in togetherness
underwater eyes open & watching of 
a baby who grows hair & teeth & expressions like it's her job
calm paths in the forest marking moments of sweet alone
delightful laughter over crazy accents & little plastic cups
cascading waters over rocks down down down into depth & dark blue

Details of life lived this summer that I choose not to forget, even with
my favorite memory recall tool found so dramatically lacking.
Loss makes us face ourselves in such real ways.
The gut wrenching, the drama, the sobs - the regret, the frustration
the Not Enough.

For even that which we lose is Not Enough.
Not going to last forever.
Not going to be perfection all the time.
Not able to carry through every change & shift
we must live out.

So I resolve to trust this one, and all ones, to the
only lasting Enough I have ever found.
I choose to be satisfied in Him.
I choose to trust that He knows what He is doing. 
In this way, all my losses are turned upside-down.
And maybe, if I look at it sideways, this-a-way, that-a-way
Maybe it's gain. Maybe

It's a win.

Lonesomeness

 
On Lonely days I need to remember that I can change that up.
I can distract myself from Lonely by doing things for others.
By praying, by walking, by educating myself about something.
By working more. By writing letters to those who would like
to receive them.

Truth be told, most often the times of by myself are a retreat & delight;
 a simmering down into peace & rest. Lonely almost always
strikes me deepest when I am in the midst of the friendly bustle of people:

- riding the train, bus or plane with no one to sleep on beside me
- walking down sidewalks with hands swinging empty
- looking around me at the church that I commit to

I can walk through & in & with Loneliness.
I do not have to feel It's heavy weight so fully (though still present)
if I but choose to be alright with It's company as I go about
loving & serving 
giving out & working hard.

For Awhile

I've been thinking about this whole issue of money:
Often relegated to necessary evil in my mind.

I am challenged from different places on this.
How do I earn money? as well as How do I spend money?
Cause it's not often that I have the opportunity for the third option of saving.

I am far too multi-faceted for that.
I save for gifts, events, or necessary dental work - not simply to save for the future "in case".
A bad habit perhaps, in such an uncertain world. Yet for that very reason it may very well be a find & decent thing to live very carefully in the present.

I seek to live generously & fully, trusting in the provision of God
Ready to put my hand to a task and do it well whenever opportunity presents itself.
This usually means I am poor in money & immeasurably rich in everything important.
So be it.

Road Tripping

Miles & miles to Kentucky. Miles to talk & listen uninterrupted (finally); 
miles to sing & smile through, reading aloud the first 32 pages of Travels with Charley.

There becomes a greater purpose than just heading south for a friend's wedding. 
Stienbeck is on to something when he writes "we do not take a trip, a trip takes us."
When we know we will be out on the road for hours, we plan on having time for silence, we splurge on caffeinated beverages, we see the sights in a different light. There is road ahead for us to travel & the journey is very nearly more exciting than the end location.  


I am glad to make this memory; to have it become part of this friendship she & I share.
There is much to rejoice in - much to contemplate - much to pray through. 
We have been given a gift. 

30.

It's exactly today that marks this whole, round number of living.
I say aloud how it does bear weight, this living done. It is under my belt, in the bag, chock-full living.
I'm still flying kites & riding bike; learning brand new things & finding spontaneous adventure.
There are precious, precious moments by campfires and planting things with dirty hands.
People are constantly breaking my heart & healing it all over the place.
I'm the one saying
 "Hang in there kids. Good things are coming."

Today I'm somewhat reflective, part poignant, 1/3 overwhelmed, a slice weary, a segment comforted,
the rest of the fraction celebrated
with a healthy dose of thankful & a thick coating of gladness.

Any advice from you as I enter the prime of my life? *grin*

Learning to Live in Need

I am struck into deeply once again. From a different place along the journey. 
This time at the close of a day spent hearing the stories of Christ's church persecuted. 
Beat down again & again - yet grown strong & deep & true.


What do I surrender? Is it asked of me to give up good things & feel pain? 
To identify with loss for Christ's sake and know His Glory through it? 


The question that strikes to the core is: 
Why not? 

A friend learns this in her way, along with me.
the love of God is deep and just and good and painful. 


I hear that, though I do not quite know what to do with it, or if it means true death
or just the willingness to see death.

Bigger Than

Who is this, so focused on what response she may get from others? Who is this, insecure & flighty in her days? Who, being so undone by small disappointments, finds herself talking only of self & the narrow walls of her dreams, her living?


I told a friend on the phone that I want to be bigger than that.
Bigger even than feeling like that, even some of the days going by.

I'm not always sure I can explain what it is that means, but
I know this:

I want only to be contained by His Great Glory & the Gospel of His Everlasting

Seeing backwardsforwards

I have asked around. "Do you mark this changing of the years with any habit of reflection/goalsetting?"

Some do and do this well with great depth & reflection.

Some do and do this well with simple, SMART goals set out. 

Some do not and do this well with being real & present no matter what is to come, no matter what has been.

I am working it out. Every year is different, as it should be. And I find myself reflecting on what was come through  over one fleeting year, marveling as always that so much can be accounted for in such a brief time.  A year is a breath. I read back on journals & hunt down the scattered scribblings that help my memory store up the mile-markers driven into ground of life along this year's way. And I hesitate, knowing that all too quickly Jesus moves us on & has for us more.  I want to squeeze out all the drops from what has been. I do not yet know fully that which will be light to me in the days to come. I will not choose to fly by insight & wisdom & pain in a blur. For me,  I believe that there is a full and hearty grasping ahold when I make time to hear again, read again, speak again - putting the pieces of God's very self revealed in a multitude of facets into a prism of clarity. Only when. 

Good ideas are given by friends, letters are written, conversation had - accountability put into action - help in the process of the shifting through living without losing some of that weighty value. I stretch my bent head up from its scratching pen & realize this could take all year. I never have been one much for puzzles. Perhaps the best method for going at this is not an item on my list of doings, but a constant understanding that moments are to be remembered, inspiration penned or doodled, dreams followed through on

because God is who He says He is.

That doesn't mean I won't write it down, scheme it up, ask a million questions and try. I still will. But with a lens across my ears & eyes that lets in lots of Truth. Lots of it. 

A distant friend of a friend sums up well what I find gives confidence from the exact Right & True source.

"

So, yes, sand between my fingers. Vapors. But somehow, in His economy, beads strung on the thread of time, all adding up to more than we can measure. I look at this past year with this confidence, and it shapes my perspective on the year to come.

"

I go head on into it: 2012  

With my journal & Bible under one arm, eager to measure with a Measurement not my own.

Things that stick

“We need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things, all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying ‘Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go unwitnessed because I will be your witness’.”

- shall we dance.




this is more than marriage - this is people, this is life. 
i want both to be witnessed & to witness. 


and so i will. 

The Mornings

Oh but for the great Mercy & Grace of God! - 

I catch myself moments after leaving a conversation or driving out of the parking lot realizing I could have said less:

I could have listened better; cared better about another. Instead of words that are said in haste, or to make myself the funny, cute girl in the crowd. 

I realize I could have said more: 

I could have been more bold for the sake of Jesus to a perishing world. Instead of reserved silence waiting for a moment where I would make perfect sense. 

Oh! I know that my heart breaks more over these things in the depths of night after a weary day. I know!

But shouldn't my heart be broken in humility over the wretchedness of who I am when not submerged & dead unto the new life that only Christ has saved me to? 

Gladly I look to a new day. I look to Christ to continually turn things on their own head. Making the new & righteous rise from ashes of ill-spent time, misplaced words or weeping pride. 

The biggest thing I thank God for in the night is that His MERCY is going to be NEW in the MORNING. 

 

And that is what grips me now. In the midst of busy days spent preparing for the next good thing. 

His Grace. His Mercy. 

Exploding

When ideas & questions crowd my mind, my heart I want to just figure things out.
Now.
No waiting around for some time later.
Maybe I'm a bit too instant for my own good & maybe it's just my out loud processing.
I have alot in my head about loving.
Let's call it loving with abandon.

I am hungry to learn of how it is that I may follow my Jesus in all ways.
How I may allow daily Spirit to lead my life.
My precious, redeemed, simple, single life.

What are the ways I am loving well?
What are the ways I need to be loving more?
What does loving look like when you're single?
What does loving need to more fully be?

I'll tell you.

The times when I feel most like a photographer are the moments when photos are in the mist of exporting after hours of editing. When I check my gear & recharge the batteries. When I deposit a check.

"holy smokes. this is my job", I think to myself.

Being out butterflying around with cameras slung over my shoulder on a wedding day or chatting candidly with a family or baby while popping out from behind my camera to flash some smiles of my own is hardly the hard part. I can handle that.
Yes, tired feet & the need for a serious shoulder workover are reality.
But it's the post processing that makes me feel like I am the. real. deal.

And it's funny. Cause nobody sees that part.
Which is absolutely fine with me. My editing wardrobe prioritizes comfort above all else.

All of it: Work I do. What I put large chunks of myself into.
And I like it lots.
So that's something.

Re-Entry

Washing all the travel sweat & the last remnants of Mexico off my body in the shower this morning.
Bittersweet.

Washing all the clothes & hanging them out over the dead-grass yard.
So glad it poured last night. For this I rejoiced as the plane taxied in through the 'cats & dogs'.

The taste of fresh peaches & salted tomatoe slices. In that order.
EXHUBERANT over the coming to this home in such a season from another home where fresh is also 'in'.

I think I love Mexico so much I could live there. I know Jesus loves Mexico.
So why not me? *grin*

Lists

I love them. I hate that I always. have. lists.

But some are really good & I'm hoping to live this one out all summer.

:: Ride bike often
:: Firebowls in the backyard
:: Sunday concerts in the park & shuffleboard
:: kayaking rivers & lakes. Mostly rivers.
:: Good photos, updated often.
:: Beach time with favorite people. As often as humanly possible.
:: Camp, spiritual mecca & continuing investment. :)
:: Food fresh from the garden. Mine or someone else's.
:: Swimming
:: Sewing
:: Swing dancing
:: Mexico City
:: Hammocks; sleeping, reading, sharing
:: Outdoor movies
:: Friends, family & friends who are like family

So much to do. It's time to get started.

There's More

Moving wore me out more than I thought it would.
Not that things aren't going so well, cause they are.
Not that I'm not ever so thankful at God's provision, cause I am.

It's just that: I seem to have misplaced my Bible. The one item that I thought I'd really do well at keeping track of. I'm sure it's sitting at church or somewhere under a box. In my weariness I grow so easily frustrated at what is not easily found; at the tasks that stack up because I have to go on prioritizing people, working every hour I can, slowly paying off bills, researching fun places to photograph people, moving more stuff that I wish I didn't have to move.

What I'd really like to do is sit and write a long-thought of letter to a pregnant friend & mail her some package love. What I'd love to do is find my Bible.

I Just Wanted you to Know: a letter to a friend

I really valued the style & mix of your latest blog post. You didn't even need to write about me :) (ha)

The thoughtfulness combined with nice pictures & details of your life brought me 

a fuller glimpse of you and life where you are. 

To be honest it made me want to pack up my bike & mandolin & Bible to move to you - 

or at least to come visit & attend FloMo with you for a few weeks;

To eat raw with you (as long as i could have my eggs & beans) & to simple be another body there 

present in your home - most likely laying on the kitchen floor.

This desire is probably intensified because of the upcoming & now-in-sight move that we will make. 

My parents, brother & me. Not far, just 2 miles-ish. But the upheaval of change that I am not allowed to forget; 

the transition and re-making of home that you and dare-say I, am too familiar with.

I will mourn in their own rights, the loss of this porch & this four-window lit room. 

This side yard & these peonies faithfully blooming each year. 

Being in the very midst of a town that I have acquired a fondness for.

I will still garden, and still have my own space (albeit smaller). 

I will still join friends or family out-of-doors around a campfire & there will be the addition of trees in the lawn. 

It will simply be different. Which is not so simple as I would like it to be, yet I reach out for it; embracing it if you will. 

As one reaches for an embrace of comfort & hope, knowing that all the pain won't be soothed entirely - 

nor should it be. 

I trust that this change will be good, is good; and that God has every great purpose fulfilled in my surrender to it.  

I am encouraged & challenged in this.

Giving up what is already not mine. 

Bean Hits the Trail

..And hits it hard. 

Apparently, as both Gingersnap & I have found out, good footwear is most important trail item. Photo: not good footwear

I went out there with old, shabby footwear and lost my little toenail for it. Who knew you could get blisters on top of blisters? and under your nail?! Ah well, I get a new one out of the deal & learn a bit more about my pain tolerance level. (which turns out to be high enough for 'pride' level..or is it pride that makes it so high? hmm..)
Running a close second in value is ...

, man I love that stuff.

Overall - it was perfect. Blister boots, windstorms (tornadoes?), snoring in the shelters, eclectic hostels & all. 

It took watching Kris head on down the trail to remember what it feels like to be with someone familiar & comfortable. 

It's always when we lack that we wish we had it back. Or wish there were more. Like warm cookies, hot water in the shower, pain-free feet, or a missed friend.

While my days on trail were a small capsule that certainly do not qualify my for any hardcore points 

(and I'm still not sure if 7m in flipflops counts as badass or downright loony) - yet I can confidently quote the coffee mug or tee shirt that proclaims:

Not all those who wander are lost. 

Hunger & Thirst

I'm humbled by this fact over and over again:

I am never hungry for long & when thirst brings on an irritable headache I simply prioritize water.

With all the time I spend delighting in or preparing or paying for food & drink
I need to realign at every new turn; each given day.

Oh to have the insatiable need for Christ; for Righteousness!
Not to drop all else and forsake what is at hand,
instead to actually live out this blessed hunger after God - to be thirsty for His Spirit &
unwilling to leave until certain that I am drenched in it.


The moment I got home today I began a batch of sweet potato fries.
Though they do not hold the righteousness I crave,
They are so. yummy.

The other night

A long planned event.
A concert of delightful quality.
When you see with the right eyes, or maybe just close them completely -
it's worshipful.

One of the important red-heads in my life & I had a night.
So great to meet up not only for the celebration of her birthday
but also our shared love of delicious music.

It was in the whole absorption of it.
The lights brought low, the energy form onstage.
The couple whispering on each others face just beyond my elbow.
The candle on the table & the people walking by on the street outside the windows.

So good.

Christ with me, Christ before me, 
Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, 
Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ where I lie, 
Christ where I sit, Christ where I arise,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every one who speaks to me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
Salvation is of the Lord.
Salvation is of the Christ.
May your salvation, Lord, be ever with us.

-an excerpt from the breastplate of St. Patrick (5th century)

When Your Heart Breaks It Should be a Big Deal

Even when the reality of an issue is overwhelming
or the pain you see in a person or a group of people is hard to get through to, hard to change;
when it's such a heaviness that your heart breaks.

It must be realized that one small drop in a bucket can make a difference.
Or more like the whole bucket full.

Let me tell you a story. A piece of my story.

::

The summer was a hot one, just like so many of the others.
Especially in the kitchen. Kitchens in the summer should be for mid-morning or evening hours in the coolness making cold fruit smoothies & finding ice pops in the freezer.

Not at summer camp.
With 180+ people to be served on any given weekday, that kitchen saw very few of those dimly lit, relaxed moments. But oh! the raucous & the fun! The music, the banging of pots dirty & clean, the thoughtful conversations or sneaky plotting of pranks, the calling for refills, the ice machine, the laughter!

My recollection of that moment washing away at the mound of dishes piled by "Oscar", the industrial sink so dubbed for his food scrap disposing ways, has a slightly hazy quality of memory about it.
As do most of my memories that are not paired with a photo.

The red-headed nurse-volunteer for the week seemed easy-going and something in me was, as often in those days (and occasionally even now :) looking for some fun in the midst of a mindless task.
So the spray hose was off it's hook and directed at her upon her unsuspecting entrance through the side kitchen door before I quite knew it would happen myself.
Her laughter and quick wet-faced exit sealed the deal: A water battle between us that quickly grew from spray hose to water cups to 5 gallon buckets, dousing one another in unsuspecting moments over the course of that week.

And it began something more: Our friendship.
One that continues to be singularly unique & blessing after nearly 13 years.
it has been she who I remember most clearly asking me
"What is God teaching you?"
and ready to listen for the answer - no matter how long it took me to tell.
This red-headed friend, whose 15 years on me doesn't change the depth of friendship, is a constant point of reference for me. Pointing me to the Jesus we both love.

::

As I have embarked on the fragile beginnings of mentorship with valuable younger women, I hold that still-growing story out into the light & see that this quality of transparency is worth my time; worth investing myself.  It is worth hard questions & tears; listening & prayer. Worthwhile in the small times because they become what is remembered in big ways.

When your heart breaks it should be a Big Deal.