Easter

this is my favorite kind of loving~ chopping apples picking grapes peeling cold carpels off orange rinds squeezing pineapple juice out of a can rolling the rolls setting the oven prying cookies off the pan— even the dishes.

this is my favorite kind of loving~ vacuuming the carpet setting out another roll of toilet paper wiping down the counters hiding the clutter.

this is my favorite kind of loving~ finding questions suggesting you sit down pour yourself a cup of juice write something you are thankful for tell me about your weekend.

and after it all, the contented sigh from serving, the heart-happy tired that fills up the room.

and now the rain. facing the balcony doors in my chair listening to the rain and watching the blue sky float, the dark clouds in the distance, thinking of maine, the ocean, the cove.

spring, my love.

it arrives with a passion found in rain puddles along the road.

when you look down, you can see up into the sky, the tree tops, their branches still bare from this cold march.

a passion that will show you the sky, even when you are not looking for it.

rain is the same smell as longing, and peace. and sometimes joy, and rejoicing, and giddiness, sometimes, and sometimes it is sorrow- but more often contented peace—to me.

spring, darling.

when the rain stops as suddenly as it began, the faraway blue comes closer- dark clouds whisked east in the wind. you can dance on this sunshine, smash your face up to it.

and now the sunset.

and now a conversation with new friends and old friends, people Jesus loves. tea, slouching, laughter.

spring, darling.

dance!

simplicity

last night my sister made me pasta with zucchini, basil, garlic, lemon juice, parmesan. it was superb.

what can I do? put me to work! I said, eager to chop some zucchini or stir some noodles. uh.. um… you can put water in this pot. and then, a timid, can you just sit on that chair and tell me about your day? I really want to make this for you. (not exact words, but exact sentiments) so I sat on the chair and rubbed the dog’s back with my foot and watched her cook me noodles and chop zucchini, and listened to the delicious sound of water boiling and zucchini frying. and it was soothing to my soul, to just sit, my chin resting on the edge of the tall chair listening and watching and knowing that my sister prepared this food that I choose because she loves me.

this morning I went for a walk because my soul was flustered. I walked through the cute neighborhood near my apartment building. I saw an old woman walking an old golden retriever. I stood directly beneath a robin and marveled at his belly. I looked up through the pine boughs at the blue sky. I listened to a cardinal’s sharp song and watched him at the top of a tree. I stopped to smell a yellow flower, stopped to stare at some purple ones. I looked at the toys left in backyards and old fences, beer cans left on porches and piles of unopened mail, recognized how this neighborhood is exactly the same as all the other countries and cities I’ve seen. I listened to birds chirping and dogs barking. I watched a pudgy squirrel sit in a basket of bird food filling his cheeks. I breathed. I longed. for how life is supposed to be. for where I was made to live. a place I have never been, but will be someday. I thought about where God will take this life.

mostly I breathed.

half an hour. and then I came home and the spring air had seeped into my soul so much I wanted to turn off the heat and open all the windows and doors- but it is only thirty-five degrees outside today. so I didn’t.

cut an apple instead, the juice splurting out all over my fingers, I marveled at my fingers and their ability to handle a knife. apples and caramel.

simplicity.

Psychology Experiment

Psychology Paper

Psychology Presentation

Psychology Presentation at the Symposium

International Relations Paper

International Relations Presentation

Dance Performance

Poetry Group Project

Poetry Paper

Poetry Revisions

SNOW!

woke up to SNOW!
skipped my first class to go for a walk. :)

made oatmeal, bagel with pb, and apple slices. mmm breakfast.

enraptured.

weird

From the dreams that carried my mind into morning past my alarms, this day has just been weird. 

But also it has been a good reminder that my life is fine. My life is good. The things that could have ruined my day if I had let them, they are nothing. They do not deal with relationships and they do not matter.

Also it has been a good reminder to pray.

And I asked other people to pray. with me. and it was good.

This. even, especially on the weird days. This is what I am supposed to do. always, every day, forever.

the One who made the stars

Oh, how lonely night would be if not for the stars!

From a solely poetic, not scientific standpoint, they seem to be tiny, mysterious specks of light. While they do not illuminate the sky, they do make it somehow lighter. The night cannot envelope you, while the stars stay in their places. In a poetic sense, there is a top, an edge to the world, an end of this space and a start to a new one.

They are hopeful.

The One who made the stars loves me. with Real Love. He withholds no good thing. Walking home tonight, I was thinking about the way I love Him, too. With Real Love.

Crazy beautiful love.

Crazy fulfilling.

play

*hit over 10,000 blog viewings today! yay!

about Ben Harding's Voice by Nancy Bowen. (You can google image it- it is the first one)

we stood in the quiet air and waited for the gray words to seep into our hearts, chaos in a still place. The quiet was full and the color was loud. Red. Word vomit, but no words. This geometry danced the walls, this puddle of space meant to be safety. Red memories for this geometry, a sharpness we could not put a word to. we stood to wait for the quiet air and sharp geometrics to carry these gray words, to slice deep into our tissues, our veins, to pour them in. We stood in the quiet air and waited, chaos in a still place, plastered to the walls and gray story, for the words to seep and the sharp to stifle.

how to be.

I read a lot of women blogs about how to be.

Sometimes I forget that Ruth wasn't taught how to be from women blogs, Esther, Lydia, Mary and Martha, all those strong women- and all the others from then till now, weren't taught how to be via books or websites. But rather, the older women, and their Book.

Sometimes my heart gets in a tizzy (thanks, Amber, for the word) because all the websites say different things and yet the same things and they all say these things in such a beautiful way. I don't write like that.

It's all right.
It's okay.

We'll get there. :)

Things that make my heart sing. Part II

So, this happened:



I was reading a book when my mom came home and told me it was snowing. I went out on the deck to look at it and then the explosion of joy happened.

Then I went outside. I ran around like a puppy for a few minutes and then paused to catch snowflakes on my tongue and fuzzy gloves, and then I licked snow off tree branches in the front yard.

THEN.

I felt something staring at me.

I turned to my left, and saw, DEER. I LIKE DEER. But I must admit they startled me and they were rather large and rather majestic looking and I skipped on up to my porch. I was going to stand there and watch them but then my excitement overtook me and I ran inside screaming "THERE ARE DEER!" to my parents, who also LIKE DEER. By the time we got back out to the yard they were wisely crossing the street, but I wandered down the sidewalk and caught another glimpse of them before I went back inside.

Things that make my heart sing. Part Two.
- airplane noises over my head on a snowy night. (actually any kind of night or day)
- DEER
- the absolute QUIET snow brings
- catching snowflakes in my mouth, on my gloves, in my hair
- screaming with delight
- SNOW
- this good book about Jesus!

I stood in the lobby of the building my family has attended Sunday worship in my whole life, and realized I knew no one. And no one came to say hello, and the only person who said hello to me the whole time asked me if it was my first time there.

That is really hard.

I was so excited to go there today, and got there and realized I knew no one. And no one knew me.

Yesterday I was in the grocery store with my mama and there were all these bright signs advertising faster checkout! As if that was supposed to be a good thing.

I don't want a faster checkout. I want to go slow and ask the cashier and the person bagging my groceries how their day is actually going.

So these are things I can do.
I can ask deep questions of anyone I come in contact with.
And I can go slow. I can hand over my money slowly. I can take a program slowly, and look the greeter in the eye and say how are you? He will inevitably say "good!" and turn to the next. I cannot control his response. But I can control my questions.

I think these are good first steps to ignoring this oppressive culture.