a constant thought

I’m sitting here in class, wondering what I’m doing in here. I’m not really paying the kind of attention that is required of an A+ student at a university. I’m more like the “get by” student who takes away a few interesting facts that have jumped out at me over time spent in each of these classrooms.

I’d like to have more time to make things. Then when I have made them, would I think enough of them to put them out in the world, or would I think them to be quite lacking in style and substance. Then there they would sit. My motivations would soon dwindle; this is assuming that I had any motivation at all to start off with even at the beginning of wanting so much of the time that I’m referring to.

What if I took a trip; by myself, I would very soon feel alone. The small excitement of finding my way around a new place would be short lived. The independence of venturing out into new territories would be vastly absent of comfort and love without being accompanied by those who my heart is with. With the one I love, I would find that any place with them is a home indeed; so then the dilemma turns into wanting a “new” and “different” home; not so much an exit from the entire life I live.

So I am back “home”, wondering why I ever wanted to leave in the first place when I have everything here; a foundation made over time, loved ones whom I share the most blessed moments with, the familiarity of a small town and all the little quirky people and places. Why is it that we “want” to leave such beauty, such gifts of pleasure? What in our hearts tells us that anything about it will be the best thing? At the bottom of the line, it’s called not being content. It’s the desire deep inside us to “escape”, to go on an “adventure”, even if it’s a bad one.

So I still sit here in debate with myself, what is deeply wrong? This isn’t enough. This isn’t “it”. There is more. My heart “knows” this. We must all know this then. A different person has different ways of “escaping” or “fixing” the slight distaste that we must all feel on a day-to-day basis. What an amazing and unbelievable thought that “this” isn’t it. This is not all that there is; not even close. The little glimpses of love, and beauty, and pleasure are so  minute to what IS it.

Now to just believe it. To “really” believe it. If only I could, all the time.

- -

life song

- -

I still call her phone just to see if she’ll ever pick up again

even though I know she can’t

I love the feeling right after you get out of a warm bath

I love drinking warm milk with honey

I love when cats sit in cupcakes

cats remind me of pretty things from my childhood

so do trees full of leaves, fields of hay, long walks through the woods, and lying on the ground

-

The scars on my face remind me that I have gotten older

my lack of energy for the everyday monotony is a reminder of not being naive anymore

I enjoy small simple pleasures just like I always have

I still recognize them and put them away deep inside my heart

into a place they have never left, and will always stay

the special things alongside other special things that remind me of what peace is, what love has been, and what home will be

- -

I was a little girl alone in my little world who dreamed of a little home for me.
I played pretend between the trees, and fed my houseguests bark and leaves, and laughed in my pretty bed of green.

I had a dream
That I could fly from the highest swing.
I had a dream.

Long walks in the dark through woods grown behind the park, I asked God who I’m supposed to be.
The stars smiled down on me, God answered in silent reverie. I said a prayer and fell asleep.

I had a dream
That I could fly from the highest tree.
I had a dream.

Now I’m old and feeling grey. I don’t know what’s left to say about this life I’m willing to leave.
I lived it full and I lived it well, there’s many tales I’ve lived to tell. I’m ready now, I’m ready now, I’m ready now to fly from the highest wing.

I had a dream

- Priscilla Ahn: “Dream”

Etsy here we are

Well I’ve been working on it little by little. I finally got going on Etsy. Check it out!

Grape on the Vine on Etsy

Rainy Days

-new John Eldredge book

-new coffee cup lovingly from Beth

-new journal

-yummy salad with ginger dressing

This is my very unique new writing space. It is an old children’s book turned into a journal. The cool part about it is that some of the remaining pages from the book are still inside randomly placed. I got this little cutie in Chattanooga. They are called second thoughts notebooks and can be found here at Another Sassy! Product.

This is my new friend from across the street. I have lovingly named him Turnip. He is a regular guest at home now.

This is Turnip’s brother. I named him Cricket.

what an entrance

“I Do” wedding dance

can’t get more fun than this : )

thought this was pretty sweet

Books let us into their souls and lay open to us the secrets of our own. -William Hazlitt

–

I have always claimed John Eldredge’s books as my favorites. Every single one of them I have never been able to put down. Captivating, by Stasi Eldredge, is also a favorite of mine.

I am currently reading Fathered by God. Many of Eldredge’s books are geared towards men and their journey through life. It’s so great though how they relate to women as well: their role with the men they love, may it be a friend, a sweetheart, their husband, their father, their son, whatever the case may be. It also hits so close to home because just like men, women struggle or at least have struggled with the same issues. It’s another beautiful journey through a book that I am looking forward to just meditating over and soaking up. I’m not even half way through but I’m recommending it to anyone.

There is also a free download of a personal and small group study guide found here:

Fathered by God – Personal & Small Group Study Guide

One of Those Beginnings to a New Journal

I was reading a book this afternoon when I looked down to notice some spots on my legs. The after effects of having scabs. As I thought about where these spots came from, I noticed much older spots that had been there for a much longer time.

It’s funny how scars stay with you.

All of my little, and big, scars on different places of my body, new and much older from a long time ago, are still in the same exact place, and most of them will stay visible for a long time.

I can remember where most of them came from:

cat scratches, bug bites, tree climbing, playing on rocks, falling down rocks, rope burns, hot metal burns, fire burns, bb guns

They aren’t noticeable from far away, but up close, they can be easily seen.

Moments of pain, loss, rebellion, accident, revenge, adventure, fear, competition, heartache, pride, and shame.

They have found a home on my skin. They have become a part of me. So much that I sometimes forget they are there. They are “normal” to me now. And when I see them I remember. I remember where they came from and why they hurt. I remember that they never left. They are only accompanied by more.

It’s funny how scars stay with you.

Rescue is Coming

There’s a darkness in my skin
My cover’s wearing thin, I believe
I’d love to start again, go back to innocent
And never leave

Don’t give up now
A break in the clouds
We could be found

There’s nothing wrong with me
It’s just that I believe things could get better
And there’s nothing wrong with love
I think it’s just enough to believe

Don’t give up now
A break in the clouds
We could be found

Rescue is coming

And there’s nothing wrong with you
And nothing left to do
But believe something bigger
And there’s nothing wrong with love
I know it’s just enough to believe

Don’t give up now
A break in the clouds
We will be found

Rescue is coming
Rescue is coming now

 

-David Crowder Band

The Sunhat

 I wear my sunhat in the sun of course; on the beach, in the shade, and while i’m in the garden. There is nothing like picking ripe tomatoes while wearing a sunhat. It protects the top of my head from the sun’s rays, from the overfriendly bugs, and from various debris falling from the sky. It shields my eyes from the bright light. It keeps my face cool in the heat of the afternoon.

 I wear my sunhat in the rain as well. I can hide away my face, my happy glow from the weather outside. I can slightly run my finger across the bill to let rain droplets off or simply to say, “how do you do”. It’s a sense of aloneness and a bit of a vacation to oneself to wear a sunhat in the rain. I feel as if I am in my own world and the troubles have gone away to a different place for that moment.

 My sunhat is a carefree hat. Its rim suggests a sense of comfort and relaxation; the feelings I get from having it on no matter what the mood, weather, or occasion.

 

lovely

A Woman and a Man

By: Ryan Jenkins

 

A woman is gentle and deep,
She is a river,

But how can a man be joined with a river?
He must become a riverbed,
He must hold her and guide her,
Always leading her forward,
On to something bigger than either of them.
He must learn from her,

But man is not a riverbed,
He is a man,
He is jaded and hard,

What can make a man soft?
He must learn to find security in Christ,
That he can be molded and shaped,
That he can be made malleable in the hands of a master.

A woman is radiant and sparkling,
She is a waterfall,

And how can a man contain a waterfall?
He must become a rock,
He must be the platform from which she can leap,
The haven that she plunges from
to go skipping and spinning into the world.

But a man is not a rock,
He is a man,
Fallen and weak,

How can a man become a rock?
He must build roots in the foundations of the earth,
He must rely on strength greater than his own.
Faith must give strength where will fails.

A woman is delicate and meek,
She is a flower,

How can a man aid a flower?
He must be soft as well.
He must be as a gentle rain that refreshes her soul,
That she can dance in the rain and feel no shame.
She must be able to feel renewed and refreshed by his presence and touch.
She must know that he is constant and steady. She must know he cares.

But a man is not a rainfall,
He is a man,
He is dried up and selfish,

He must be renewed by streams of living water,
He must be able to shower grace that is abundantly shared from above
He must empty himself so that he can be filled, to pour out love

A woman is wild and passionate,
She is a flame,

How can a man touch fire and not be consumed?
He cannot,
And so he must become a flame as well,
A passion to match hers, a will to build hers
They will burn together, consumed by love,
They will shine bright or fade out together,

But a man is not a flame,
He is a man,
He is complacent and dull

He must hear a calling from above,
He must be impassioned with a fire from the heavens
He must burn with convictions from within his soul.