Like a true mid-westerner, born and raised in both blizzards and sweltering heat, I can't imagine living anywhere where it can't be 70 degrees one day and snowing the next.
I live for the drama, but also the symbolism in all the seasons. As i'm sure you're all aware, i love a good life metaphor.
We all know that Fall is my most favorite. It's my oldest, sweetest friend. Fall is for homecomings. But it's winter that concerns me most today.
Winter is magical. Winter is for home. It's for cozy. It's for belonging to a place and people. Winter is for family and traditions and for the world feeling a little bit smaller.
People are kinder in the winter. They hold doors open, and shovel each other's sidewalks and chat about the snow and cold or whatever winter weather is happening. Let's face it, it's never the same and that's kind of why we love it. The holidays help. They center us and calibrate us to what's important.
Winter in quiet. I live life on full volume and in ALL CAPS, and winter provides a lovely opportunity to slow down and quiet down. To listen, to wait, to pay attention.
My best pal is preaching her first sermon on Sunday. I'm so excited. And it's happening in winter. I feel like winter is our season. It was in winter that she first rescued me from a car accdient and let me sleep on her couch. It was a funny set of circumstances that lead to me sleeping on her couch for a whole week, and wearing all her clothes and helping move her mom in the dead of winter in January. It's been winter where she's rescued my heart a billion times. It's where my family ornaments hang on and with theirs. It's where the kitchen feels cozy making Grandma's Pearl's sugar cookies. It's where millions of conversations and Saturdays were spent at the table. It's when we've sold mugs, and made handmade Christmas decorations that made a big church lobby feel like a throwback to Christmas' of a sweeter time. It's where a room full of women were challenged to find their joy and to keep choosing it. It's been in winter when we marched for all of the women that came before us and the women who walk with us.
I may not remember the specifics of what has all happened in our season but I do know how it makes me feel. Winter is significant always. Important things are birthed. foundations are laid. Seeds are planted so that when spring comes, life starts all over.
This is such a sweet time. I'm so thankful.
Friday, December 8, 2017
Tuesday, December 5, 2017
a work in progress...literally and figuratively.
I was 8 the first time I had a "good enough." Thought. It came on the heels of my dad asking me what he thought about him having a girlfriend. He asked it so casually as we were walking and I was so young that the implications of this question were almost lost on me.
Why wasn't my mom enough for him? why wasn't I? What was missing that home couldn't give him.
And, if I had to pick a defining moment from my life, that would surely top the list. But the thought kind of crept in like rolling fog, or frost, or the way sunsets so quickly, yet slowly go from brilliant yellows and pinks to dark blues and greys.
And then it just stayed. It hung around like cobwebs or fruit flies. Not life threatening but present enough to be annoying.
and I carried it with me. It manifested of course in a lot of different ways. When I was young, it was rule-following, and good grades and being so nice. Desperate to be good enough for my parents, for my friends, for my teachers...desperate to find be good enough to make them stay, to make them love me.
As I got a little older, my desire to please my parents lessened as I became more aware of their brokenness individually and together. The more I felt pitted against them, the more I searched for acceptance in my peer group. When being the nice girl wasn't working, i let go of my filter and said anything and everything that came into my head.
I discovered I was funny, but I also discovered that I could be incredibly mean, and while in my gut i knew that wasn't who I was, it was working.
but it only worked for a while. I went to college and realized that I wasn't as worldly and i thought. I was pretty innocent. My chastity certainly wasn't a badge of honor. So college chip away at it. Kissing boys, going further than I wanted but not too for, drinking too much, pretending that none of this bothered me. I fought a battle in my head, I wasn't wildly fond of being hungover, fighting the pressure of being or doing what people wanted to expected of me.
The truth is while some of it was fun, some of it wasn't. Some of it made me feel less than when i was shooting for good enough.
I never felt good enough. I don't think I feel good enough now, to be honest.
Then i moved to the cities. I was searching so passionately for a place to belong, that i did whatever people asked of me. This season was a bit trickier. It's easy to know that kissing boys you don't know and drinking too much to fit in is not a great choice, but volunteering, serving, being kind to people has it's own weird unhealthy underbelly.
I didn't know that i was slowly killing myself. I was slowly turning into a shell of who i was. The best parts of my gone because I was so willing to do whatever people wanted so they wouldn't leave. So i would be good enough for them to stay...
and as you would expect from any story, things fall apart, the center cannot hold. You can juggle and say yes and do whatever until you cant. Something breaks.
And you find yourself on the kitchen floor begging for directions or a map or a way back to who you are, only to find that the truth is you're not good enough and you never were.
But because God is graceful, i don't have to be. I can simply be. If you can figure out who you are and what you're living for you don't have to keep reaching for "good enough"
I'll never be smart enough, love Jesus enough, be pretty enough, or skinny enough, by my standards or the world's for that matter, but I'm becoming more okay with that because I am loved. I'm fearfully and wonderfully made, i am an image barer and is enough.
Jesus was good enough so because we weren't.
Nowadays i fall somewhere in the chill about life and freaked about my life. Every time someone else gets engaged has a baby, gets a boyfriend....has forward momentum, my good enough bullshit sneaks out.
Maybe I'll find a sweet boy to marry, Maybe i won't. But either way, my value is the same.
This story isn't sad. I was never assaulted, I have a good relationship with my parents, my parents are still married for better or worse, I am loved, i have a job and a life that is lovely, but it's not without it's hiccups.
The pursuit for good enough could have led me down a very differnt path, but it didn't and for that i'm thankful.
Why wasn't my mom enough for him? why wasn't I? What was missing that home couldn't give him.
And, if I had to pick a defining moment from my life, that would surely top the list. But the thought kind of crept in like rolling fog, or frost, or the way sunsets so quickly, yet slowly go from brilliant yellows and pinks to dark blues and greys.
And then it just stayed. It hung around like cobwebs or fruit flies. Not life threatening but present enough to be annoying.
and I carried it with me. It manifested of course in a lot of different ways. When I was young, it was rule-following, and good grades and being so nice. Desperate to be good enough for my parents, for my friends, for my teachers...desperate to find be good enough to make them stay, to make them love me.
As I got a little older, my desire to please my parents lessened as I became more aware of their brokenness individually and together. The more I felt pitted against them, the more I searched for acceptance in my peer group. When being the nice girl wasn't working, i let go of my filter and said anything and everything that came into my head.
I discovered I was funny, but I also discovered that I could be incredibly mean, and while in my gut i knew that wasn't who I was, it was working.
but it only worked for a while. I went to college and realized that I wasn't as worldly and i thought. I was pretty innocent. My chastity certainly wasn't a badge of honor. So college chip away at it. Kissing boys, going further than I wanted but not too for, drinking too much, pretending that none of this bothered me. I fought a battle in my head, I wasn't wildly fond of being hungover, fighting the pressure of being or doing what people wanted to expected of me.
The truth is while some of it was fun, some of it wasn't. Some of it made me feel less than when i was shooting for good enough.
I never felt good enough. I don't think I feel good enough now, to be honest.
Then i moved to the cities. I was searching so passionately for a place to belong, that i did whatever people asked of me. This season was a bit trickier. It's easy to know that kissing boys you don't know and drinking too much to fit in is not a great choice, but volunteering, serving, being kind to people has it's own weird unhealthy underbelly.
I didn't know that i was slowly killing myself. I was slowly turning into a shell of who i was. The best parts of my gone because I was so willing to do whatever people wanted so they wouldn't leave. So i would be good enough for them to stay...
and as you would expect from any story, things fall apart, the center cannot hold. You can juggle and say yes and do whatever until you cant. Something breaks.
And you find yourself on the kitchen floor begging for directions or a map or a way back to who you are, only to find that the truth is you're not good enough and you never were.
But because God is graceful, i don't have to be. I can simply be. If you can figure out who you are and what you're living for you don't have to keep reaching for "good enough"
I'll never be smart enough, love Jesus enough, be pretty enough, or skinny enough, by my standards or the world's for that matter, but I'm becoming more okay with that because I am loved. I'm fearfully and wonderfully made, i am an image barer and is enough.
Jesus was good enough so because we weren't.
Nowadays i fall somewhere in the chill about life and freaked about my life. Every time someone else gets engaged has a baby, gets a boyfriend....has forward momentum, my good enough bullshit sneaks out.
Maybe I'll find a sweet boy to marry, Maybe i won't. But either way, my value is the same.
This story isn't sad. I was never assaulted, I have a good relationship with my parents, my parents are still married for better or worse, I am loved, i have a job and a life that is lovely, but it's not without it's hiccups.
The pursuit for good enough could have led me down a very differnt path, but it didn't and for that i'm thankful.
Sunday, December 3, 2017
Detours....
I spent the evening in St. Paul tonight, which was great because St. Paul recalibrates me and inspires me. And, if I'm honest, I've been in need of a little inspo, so I took the opportunity.
And that's where the first of many detours come in. First, I wanted to go to the new spyhouse, and I did, except that it's literally a closet and it was overrun by college kids who I can only assume by their disheveled appearances are either in the throes of finals or just super mega hipsters who don't shower and are next level organic.
And either could be true because I just read Into the Wild and maybe they did, too and they're all on some transcendental journey. All millennial hipsters aside, it was too crowded for this 30 something private school teacher who was just there to work on some churchy things. So, took a detour over to Ninas, which i love, but wasn't feeling it. So over the Wabasha Bridge, I went, to the ever faithful Amore Coffee.
This is where the real detour comes in. Normally, I just take the High Bridge to Amore but it's closed forever. (Not really, just for a bit. They're fixing it so people don't die, i think. Whatever it's inconvenient). This bridge issue forced a detour over the river and through the woods...actually it's probably more over the river and up a bluff? I don't know landforms, I'm just taking a guess. All i know is that it's poorly lit, windy, and basically something you'd see in a horror movie. Needless to say, I was annoyed.
I finally arrived at Amore, got minimal work done for reasons that had nothing to do with the atmosphere or the detour, and then I headed back from whence I came. This time going down the bluff...(i don't know, it just might be a hill, how do you know if it's a bluff?) But then right there, through a clearing in the trees were all the lights of the riverfront/downtown/cathedral/capitol. I AM OBSESSED WITH THE CITY AND IT'S SKYLINE.
It was beautiful and I had a stop and take it in for a second. I almost never go that way because the normally the bridge isn't under construction so I rarely get this view of the city.
And i'm smart enough to spot a life metaphor when I see one. My life has not gone as planned. I'm not married to a nice boy and i don't have kids. I'm not teaching in the inner city, Dangerous Minds style (oh, hey 90's throwback). i don't have precious little house in the city with hardwood floors and built-ins.
I don't know if that will actually ever happen. I've taken some detours and without them, I would not have this view of life, and people and Jesus.
Well, damn. In this time, (advent, duh). I think it's important to acknowledge that this is not the life God intended for us. So we wait, we prepare our hearts, for Jesus. In that waiting, we have expectant hearts which are met by a tiny baby. Not exactly what we wanted, but exactly what we need.
Our view needs to shift from our plans, our missteps, our expectations. We need to look through the clearing and see Jesus, coming on the horizon. A promise kept. A new path born which will lead to the cross.
Because of this baby, how will we choose to see this season? how will it change the way to see out lives?
I don't know, but i'm waiting to find out what this season has for me, and maybe you too if you're open to it.
Also: My advent playlist is so good.
And that's where the first of many detours come in. First, I wanted to go to the new spyhouse, and I did, except that it's literally a closet and it was overrun by college kids who I can only assume by their disheveled appearances are either in the throes of finals or just super mega hipsters who don't shower and are next level organic.
And either could be true because I just read Into the Wild and maybe they did, too and they're all on some transcendental journey. All millennial hipsters aside, it was too crowded for this 30 something private school teacher who was just there to work on some churchy things. So, took a detour over to Ninas, which i love, but wasn't feeling it. So over the Wabasha Bridge, I went, to the ever faithful Amore Coffee.
This is where the real detour comes in. Normally, I just take the High Bridge to Amore but it's closed forever. (Not really, just for a bit. They're fixing it so people don't die, i think. Whatever it's inconvenient). This bridge issue forced a detour over the river and through the woods...actually it's probably more over the river and up a bluff? I don't know landforms, I'm just taking a guess. All i know is that it's poorly lit, windy, and basically something you'd see in a horror movie. Needless to say, I was annoyed.
I finally arrived at Amore, got minimal work done for reasons that had nothing to do with the atmosphere or the detour, and then I headed back from whence I came. This time going down the bluff...(i don't know, it just might be a hill, how do you know if it's a bluff?) But then right there, through a clearing in the trees were all the lights of the riverfront/downtown/cathedral/capitol. I AM OBSESSED WITH THE CITY AND IT'S SKYLINE.
It was beautiful and I had a stop and take it in for a second. I almost never go that way because the normally the bridge isn't under construction so I rarely get this view of the city.
And i'm smart enough to spot a life metaphor when I see one. My life has not gone as planned. I'm not married to a nice boy and i don't have kids. I'm not teaching in the inner city, Dangerous Minds style (oh, hey 90's throwback). i don't have precious little house in the city with hardwood floors and built-ins.
I don't know if that will actually ever happen. I've taken some detours and without them, I would not have this view of life, and people and Jesus.
Well, damn. In this time, (advent, duh). I think it's important to acknowledge that this is not the life God intended for us. So we wait, we prepare our hearts, for Jesus. In that waiting, we have expectant hearts which are met by a tiny baby. Not exactly what we wanted, but exactly what we need.
Our view needs to shift from our plans, our missteps, our expectations. We need to look through the clearing and see Jesus, coming on the horizon. A promise kept. A new path born which will lead to the cross.
Because of this baby, how will we choose to see this season? how will it change the way to see out lives?
I don't know, but i'm waiting to find out what this season has for me, and maybe you too if you're open to it.
Also: My advent playlist is so good.
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
There's steeple bell ringing from the church that saved my soul....
All the cool kids write about the Table. About cooking, about how making something that feeds your people is a holy experience. How many times have you read that the table is a place to be feed and seen. Physically and spiritually. So many times.
And it's about creation. Taking something God has provided, a harvest, and making it something beautiful and delicious. How many times have you read about the smells and textures and felt like you were there. So many times.
It's a cliche, an old hat, and something that we could probably write off., if it wasn't the most true thing in the world.
Because absolutely everything anyone has ever written about the table and kitchen and the act of cooking is a billion percent true. It's beautiful and holy and cathartic and cleansing and perfect.
There is something about the whole experience of cooking. Like from fram(ers market) to table.
The act of carefully choosing ingredients. The smell of basil and garlic, the way that good bread is soft and flakey, and the colors of everything. The vibe of the farmers market is a simple one. It's uncomplicated and organic. It's proof that we long for the days of simplicity. I have a deep respect and reverence for farmers, their job is a hard one, but perhaps the most important one. One that is dependent on God's provision.
Planting, and harvesting, and seeds and growth. IT'S FREAKING BIBLICAL.
The prep of eating is almost my favorite part. I LOVE being a sous chef. I love cutting and stirring and measuring. More than that I love the conversation that goes with it. It's sometimes idle chit chat, some times it's deep and meaningful. It's always memorable. It's full of laughter, and questions and connection....AND I LOVE IT. It's also full of music. Sometimes it's worship music, or acoustic, or oldies but it's always the exact perfect vibe for the occasion.
I learned so much about cooking and life and God around the cutting boards in the the kitchens of the people who've gone before me. Even back when I was little and I baked with my mom and grandma.
Maybe its such a holy experience because it engages all your senses.
Once it's done, gathering your people around the table to talk about whatever, sometimes it's silence because the food is that good, or because the season is hard and words come slowly, sometimes you talk so much your bites and few and far between laughter and stories that are co-authored, and tag-team told. Sometimes wine flows freely, sometimes we're just looking for the comfort of go-to meatloaf and mashed potatoes so mend broken hearts, other times we're cutting cake, pie or brownies or some other sweet treat because we are celebrating each other, and how far we've come and how faithful our God is.
After the food is done, and plates are cleaned, we linger for just one more story, one more laugh, savoring the moments that are here. What if lived our entire life like it was one long dinner. What if we stayed around long enough to savor, to reflect, to help clean up. What if we said yes to one more glass of whatever your having. What if we weren't in such a hurry all the time. What if the table...wherever it is, whatever it look likes was enough for us.
The table, the kitchen it's all sacred space. Holy ground. There is something that happens there that you cant replicate anywhere else.
If there is anything this summer is teaching me/reminding me of, is definitely the things that fill me up and give me life. It's a summer of getting back to my roots. So much of that is the kitchen and chopping and listening and learning.
The truth is, that I've been out of sorts a little. Slowing getting back to the core of who I am, and what i've been discovering is that I've needed to see God in places outside of church. I've needed to feel God in places where he's felt absent. I need to get my butt back to church, certainly, but I've needed the feel sacred spaces again.
It's been a beautiful journey back to myself, I don't know that I'm there completely, but I'm getting closer. The desire to love my people (and everyone, really) well is alive and well.
These are Holy Days and I'm so thankful.
And it's about creation. Taking something God has provided, a harvest, and making it something beautiful and delicious. How many times have you read about the smells and textures and felt like you were there. So many times.
It's a cliche, an old hat, and something that we could probably write off., if it wasn't the most true thing in the world.
Because absolutely everything anyone has ever written about the table and kitchen and the act of cooking is a billion percent true. It's beautiful and holy and cathartic and cleansing and perfect.
There is something about the whole experience of cooking. Like from fram(ers market) to table.
The act of carefully choosing ingredients. The smell of basil and garlic, the way that good bread is soft and flakey, and the colors of everything. The vibe of the farmers market is a simple one. It's uncomplicated and organic. It's proof that we long for the days of simplicity. I have a deep respect and reverence for farmers, their job is a hard one, but perhaps the most important one. One that is dependent on God's provision.
Planting, and harvesting, and seeds and growth. IT'S FREAKING BIBLICAL.
The prep of eating is almost my favorite part. I LOVE being a sous chef. I love cutting and stirring and measuring. More than that I love the conversation that goes with it. It's sometimes idle chit chat, some times it's deep and meaningful. It's always memorable. It's full of laughter, and questions and connection....AND I LOVE IT. It's also full of music. Sometimes it's worship music, or acoustic, or oldies but it's always the exact perfect vibe for the occasion.
I learned so much about cooking and life and God around the cutting boards in the the kitchens of the people who've gone before me. Even back when I was little and I baked with my mom and grandma.
Maybe its such a holy experience because it engages all your senses.
Once it's done, gathering your people around the table to talk about whatever, sometimes it's silence because the food is that good, or because the season is hard and words come slowly, sometimes you talk so much your bites and few and far between laughter and stories that are co-authored, and tag-team told. Sometimes wine flows freely, sometimes we're just looking for the comfort of go-to meatloaf and mashed potatoes so mend broken hearts, other times we're cutting cake, pie or brownies or some other sweet treat because we are celebrating each other, and how far we've come and how faithful our God is.
After the food is done, and plates are cleaned, we linger for just one more story, one more laugh, savoring the moments that are here. What if lived our entire life like it was one long dinner. What if we stayed around long enough to savor, to reflect, to help clean up. What if we said yes to one more glass of whatever your having. What if we weren't in such a hurry all the time. What if the table...wherever it is, whatever it look likes was enough for us.
The table, the kitchen it's all sacred space. Holy ground. There is something that happens there that you cant replicate anywhere else.
If there is anything this summer is teaching me/reminding me of, is definitely the things that fill me up and give me life. It's a summer of getting back to my roots. So much of that is the kitchen and chopping and listening and learning.
The truth is, that I've been out of sorts a little. Slowing getting back to the core of who I am, and what i've been discovering is that I've needed to see God in places outside of church. I've needed to feel God in places where he's felt absent. I need to get my butt back to church, certainly, but I've needed the feel sacred spaces again.
It's been a beautiful journey back to myself, I don't know that I'm there completely, but I'm getting closer. The desire to love my people (and everyone, really) well is alive and well.
These are Holy Days and I'm so thankful.
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
I'm just sorry it didn't turn out the way we thought it would.
I have big ideas. Big, romantic, rose colored ideas. I think some things should last forever. That we should fight for important things. Priorities should include people and time for the things that light you up inside. Distance and arguments should never be deal breakers.
But sometimes they are. Sometimes things don't last forever. Sometimes you drop the rope you're holding.
And I'm learning to be okay with that. Life is about growing and changing into cool humans and sometimes we can't grow and change at the same time and in the same direction.
And that's okay. At least, i keep telling myself it is.
The big gay wedding happened in Florida yesterday. I, obviously, was not in attendance. I'm okay with, it, really. But watching the video there was a part of me that thought that maybe I was wrong.
Maybe 17 years of friendship should mean more than whatever the last 3 years has thrown us. Maybe history should trump pride. Maybe I should have been there. Maybe I shouldn't have dropped the rope.
We were both holding it pretty loosely, and it hurt my heart too much to keep holding it, so i dropped it.
Like i deleted all their numbers from my phone, dropped it.
It sounds dramatic, and it is, but it's also necessary.
I like who I'm becoming. I like where I am and who I spend my time with, but there are days, like today where I miss them. But we're not those people any more and that makes it a little easier to miss them.
I met Brent when I was 15. He was not a cool kid. I wasn't either but I had more street cred. I just thought he was funny and I wanted to be friends with him. Our friend groups were different, they eventually molded into a common one, and he'll tell you I followed him to college.
And if it wasn't for that, i wouldn't be here. So, I'm getting more okay with the idea that sometimes forever isn't in the cards, and I'm learning to how to be happy for people when you're not included in their new normal.
It's all okay. It's actually better than okay, this life is a good one.
But sometimes they are. Sometimes things don't last forever. Sometimes you drop the rope you're holding.
And I'm learning to be okay with that. Life is about growing and changing into cool humans and sometimes we can't grow and change at the same time and in the same direction.
And that's okay. At least, i keep telling myself it is.
The big gay wedding happened in Florida yesterday. I, obviously, was not in attendance. I'm okay with, it, really. But watching the video there was a part of me that thought that maybe I was wrong.
Maybe 17 years of friendship should mean more than whatever the last 3 years has thrown us. Maybe history should trump pride. Maybe I should have been there. Maybe I shouldn't have dropped the rope.
We were both holding it pretty loosely, and it hurt my heart too much to keep holding it, so i dropped it.
Like i deleted all their numbers from my phone, dropped it.
It sounds dramatic, and it is, but it's also necessary.
I like who I'm becoming. I like where I am and who I spend my time with, but there are days, like today where I miss them. But we're not those people any more and that makes it a little easier to miss them.
I met Brent when I was 15. He was not a cool kid. I wasn't either but I had more street cred. I just thought he was funny and I wanted to be friends with him. Our friend groups were different, they eventually molded into a common one, and he'll tell you I followed him to college.
And if it wasn't for that, i wouldn't be here. So, I'm getting more okay with the idea that sometimes forever isn't in the cards, and I'm learning to how to be happy for people when you're not included in their new normal.
It's all okay. It's actually better than okay, this life is a good one.
Thursday, June 29, 2017
Life, love and the pursuit of it...
Rhythms of life are weird. They frequently don't make sense until after they've come and gone. They're not predicable, each comes and goes and another seamlessly begins, only for you to notice about a 1/4 of the way in.
Because something feels different. Normally, I catch these new rhythms when something feels off. I'm often put off by the sudden realization that my flow has been tampered with. I spend time obsessively analyzing (often incorrectly) everything that's going on. My anxious heart goes into panic mode and it's a whole damn thing.
While there may not be anything predicable about the rhythms of life, my reaction to them is pretty mathematical. You can set your watch by me and let the crazy roll in, until recently.
The pace of this summer has been a really great one. The days go by at a speed that allows to me to soak in the joy of being pretty carefree, but on the whole summer is going by rather quickly. It's nearly July. Before i know it i'll be putting together bulletin boards, and printing syllabi for the children. Also, i'm starting to miss the children. I'm getting excited to see them, which is a good thing. I do not feel overwhelmed with what the school year will bring. I feel strangely chill about the whole thing. I love my co-workers, i love my kids and love my principal. I know that i'm always learning and always getting better, so I feel okay about where i am.
That being said, this summer hasnt necessarily been full of rip roaring excitement, but enjoy of delightful run-ins with people I absolutely adore and for the most part, I feel like the feeling is mutual.
In this pace i've set for myself, I seemed to have kicked up some pieces of myself that were poking out but not really exposed all the way. Thankfully for everyone around me, it's the stuff about me that people like. Showing up for people, being intentional, letting people know they're being seen, celebrating life big and small moments. It's felt really good to have these pieces of me back.
I've also spent some time in Wisco, which has been so good for my soul. This whole concept of evolving while maintaining the roots of who you are is something i've been really trying to focus on. Home is always good for me. I often need to walk around in the place the built me to remember what's important.
My family is important. Spending time there is important. They are the ones who taught me to love people, to laugh, to enjoy life but also to work hard. I need to remember that I am the product of so many people hard work, so many people's good work. I need to honor that and pay it forward.
So home was good. home is always...a little frustrating, but always life giving.
So here I am about to start July with a peaceful, thankful spirit. Thankful for tan lines, sweet summer memories of riding carousels, and looking at bonsai trees, of terrible golf scores, and baseball games and bug bites, and tours of childhood stomping grounds, thankful for all the lemonade that's been made and drank, for birthdays and babies and seeing each other.
this season is a beautiful one and I'm so thankful that for once, i'm noticing while it's happening. At night I've been taking time to breathe in the day and spend some time letting the hazy light of summer sunset color the memories that i'll pull out on a later date, when perhaps my rhythm isn't so sepia toned.
This rhythm is definitely allowing me appreciate my roots, the rings in of these years that have been lived, and there's been nothing better than watching the bloom of the buds grown in hard, frustrating, doubtful times. I know I haven't gotten here on my own.
I am a late night prayers and hopes, scars and bruises, I'm hard lessons, and loud laughs, I'm celebration and heartbreak. I've been carried here by love and grace and I wont soon forget that.
I go to bed with messy hair and the smell of a life that well lived with the promise that tomorrow will bring new ways to love this life.
Thankful doesn't even begin to cover it.
And Hey, now maybe we can marry me off?
Because something feels different. Normally, I catch these new rhythms when something feels off. I'm often put off by the sudden realization that my flow has been tampered with. I spend time obsessively analyzing (often incorrectly) everything that's going on. My anxious heart goes into panic mode and it's a whole damn thing.
While there may not be anything predicable about the rhythms of life, my reaction to them is pretty mathematical. You can set your watch by me and let the crazy roll in, until recently.
The pace of this summer has been a really great one. The days go by at a speed that allows to me to soak in the joy of being pretty carefree, but on the whole summer is going by rather quickly. It's nearly July. Before i know it i'll be putting together bulletin boards, and printing syllabi for the children. Also, i'm starting to miss the children. I'm getting excited to see them, which is a good thing. I do not feel overwhelmed with what the school year will bring. I feel strangely chill about the whole thing. I love my co-workers, i love my kids and love my principal. I know that i'm always learning and always getting better, so I feel okay about where i am.
That being said, this summer hasnt necessarily been full of rip roaring excitement, but enjoy of delightful run-ins with people I absolutely adore and for the most part, I feel like the feeling is mutual.
In this pace i've set for myself, I seemed to have kicked up some pieces of myself that were poking out but not really exposed all the way. Thankfully for everyone around me, it's the stuff about me that people like. Showing up for people, being intentional, letting people know they're being seen, celebrating life big and small moments. It's felt really good to have these pieces of me back.
I've also spent some time in Wisco, which has been so good for my soul. This whole concept of evolving while maintaining the roots of who you are is something i've been really trying to focus on. Home is always good for me. I often need to walk around in the place the built me to remember what's important.
My family is important. Spending time there is important. They are the ones who taught me to love people, to laugh, to enjoy life but also to work hard. I need to remember that I am the product of so many people hard work, so many people's good work. I need to honor that and pay it forward.
So home was good. home is always...a little frustrating, but always life giving.
So here I am about to start July with a peaceful, thankful spirit. Thankful for tan lines, sweet summer memories of riding carousels, and looking at bonsai trees, of terrible golf scores, and baseball games and bug bites, and tours of childhood stomping grounds, thankful for all the lemonade that's been made and drank, for birthdays and babies and seeing each other.
this season is a beautiful one and I'm so thankful that for once, i'm noticing while it's happening. At night I've been taking time to breathe in the day and spend some time letting the hazy light of summer sunset color the memories that i'll pull out on a later date, when perhaps my rhythm isn't so sepia toned.
This rhythm is definitely allowing me appreciate my roots, the rings in of these years that have been lived, and there's been nothing better than watching the bloom of the buds grown in hard, frustrating, doubtful times. I know I haven't gotten here on my own.
I am a late night prayers and hopes, scars and bruises, I'm hard lessons, and loud laughs, I'm celebration and heartbreak. I've been carried here by love and grace and I wont soon forget that.
I go to bed with messy hair and the smell of a life that well lived with the promise that tomorrow will bring new ways to love this life.
Thankful doesn't even begin to cover it.
And Hey, now maybe we can marry me off?
Sunday, May 7, 2017
prone to wander.
Looks like i'll forever be a gypsy.
When all the people you like leave your current church to plant a new one...you're left church homeless. and its sad and annoying.
Looking for places to land along is annoying. Maybe i'll take the summer off.
It's not like i ever actaully talk about Sunday services with people or bible study with people anyway.
Here's to being church homeless again and not feeling any urgency to find a place to land.
Rita called. I didn't call her back. I miss her, and she reached out and i couldn't be bothered.
I have nothing to say, anyway.
sometimes too much life happens or nothing at all and you're not the same.
It's like al my important Jesus people are gone.
Can't even remember the last time someone asked me what God's up to in my life and actually cared.
I miss sweet sundays. I miss rich conversations, and community and after church lunch and making dinner together chatting through the day. I should have held on tighter while it was happening.
How was i supposed to know it was change.
i'm tired of transition.
When all the people you like leave your current church to plant a new one...you're left church homeless. and its sad and annoying.
Looking for places to land along is annoying. Maybe i'll take the summer off.
It's not like i ever actaully talk about Sunday services with people or bible study with people anyway.
Here's to being church homeless again and not feeling any urgency to find a place to land.
Rita called. I didn't call her back. I miss her, and she reached out and i couldn't be bothered.
I have nothing to say, anyway.
sometimes too much life happens or nothing at all and you're not the same.
It's like al my important Jesus people are gone.
Can't even remember the last time someone asked me what God's up to in my life and actually cared.
I miss sweet sundays. I miss rich conversations, and community and after church lunch and making dinner together chatting through the day. I should have held on tighter while it was happening.
How was i supposed to know it was change.
i'm tired of transition.
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Hollywood is not America...
Some things:
1. I have a pretty little collection of water bottles. It has absolutely helped me to drink more water, but mostly I have them because they're cute.
2. I really love reading, but i'm a book quitter sometimes. Also, it takes me forever to actually get into a book.
3. I like audiobooks a lot. Oddly, my favorite audiobook is "Bittersweet" I could (and have) listen to it over and over again. It's simple and real and reminds me why I love writing. I want to write. I just have to figure out what.
4. I am obsessed with old movies right now and always, really. The faster the talking and the older the better. Right now i'm super into the 40-60's. I also love a Hollywood love story.
5. I just watched a documentary on the Oscars. It was delightful.
6. If i ever get to New York, my first stop will be The Algonquin.
7. I like nicknames but i don't necessarily like pet names i've decided. You don't get to call me sweetie or honey unless you're my parents or grandmother. Take note boys: Call me sweetie and it will not go well, I'm not a 5 year old.
8. I had a kid make me a playlist of their favorite songs on spotify. It was an excellent choice. It's so good.
9. I'm strangely into the Kennedy's again. But i'm also reading 11.22.63....so there's that.
10. I haven't been to church in 6 weeks. This is officially a problem.
11.what if i never get married. ugh ugh ugh.
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Thursday, April 20, 2017
Baby go find what you're searching for....
Things that I miss:
1. Creative Team.
2. Weekly check in meetings
3. Project meetings
4. So much coffee shopping
5. weekly prayer meetings
6. When Rita would buy raspberries for me.
7. Opening the building at 7 The way stepping stone smelled and felt when we woke it up on sundays.
8. Literally weekly texts from brad that said "you're a good thing"
9. community prayer
10. scheduling people. and sending emails. I miss church homework.
11. service projects.
12. random outings.
13. feeling part of a community that really loved me.
14. Bread and chocolate
15. ALL THE PIZZA LUCE.
16. Rita.
17. house sitting for rita.
18. abby the dog.
19. learning things from rita
20. like fasting.
21. all the time i spent with Sam and Julia. Aria, tea garden. Cafe Latte.
22. always having people at my apartment.
23. When people trusted me with big things like the offerings, and planning things, and leading things and like...their hearts.
24. planning worship set lists.
25. I miss when Brad would cry during prayer
26. I miss funny brad.
27. Gelato with Bard
28. Shish.
29. The way the kindalls call me Nickolai, and before that, Neko.
I've been thinking about Sam and Julia a lot lately. I've just flashes of memories I haven't thought about it in so long. Like late nights at Nina's doing homework. Picking up Julia while she waiting for Brad, ordering pizza luce and watching trashy tv. Gilmore girls. Guitar Center dates with Sam where he would try to teach me guitar. House sitting #whenthepastorsaway.
Then it obviously goes to late night texts about their mom, when i would get out of bed and drive to be with them so their dad could be with their mom. When Julia begged to say with me for a week while her dad was gone and her mom was home. Going to check on Sam. Having to tell them their mom left and wouldn't be around for their birthdays. Watching brad pray in front of everyone that one time it happened during check...and scooping Sam and Ju up and taking them with me because they shouldn't be alone. Their graduations, their grad party.
Then wondering why after so much prayer and trench digging....it didn't work. Why she's in KY, our baby church and community is scattered and everything that we worked so hard for....didn't work. And maybe it's my heart reminding me how deeply i love them and i haven't checked in on them enough, and maybe they need it. So many things. And they come and go without any consideration for what i'm currently doing.
What i'm finding though, is that these things are bittersweet, but mostly sweet. These are the things that i LOVED. I can remember exactly how it all felt when it was good. It was so good. so fun. so fulfilling. It lit me up, it pushed me out, and it made me happy. I'm not mourning it anymore, really. It's so much of who i am. And i loved it, and hated it. But i haven't spent time remembering it. The way if felt. The girl I was. The girl i'm working my way back to. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be paying attention to, but I am paying attention.
1. Creative Team.
2. Weekly check in meetings
3. Project meetings
4. So much coffee shopping
5. weekly prayer meetings
6. When Rita would buy raspberries for me.
7. Opening the building at 7 The way stepping stone smelled and felt when we woke it up on sundays.
8. Literally weekly texts from brad that said "you're a good thing"
9. community prayer
10. scheduling people. and sending emails. I miss church homework.
11. service projects.
12. random outings.
13. feeling part of a community that really loved me.
14. Bread and chocolate
15. ALL THE PIZZA LUCE.
16. Rita.
17. house sitting for rita.
18. abby the dog.
19. learning things from rita
20. like fasting.
21. all the time i spent with Sam and Julia. Aria, tea garden. Cafe Latte.
22. always having people at my apartment.
23. When people trusted me with big things like the offerings, and planning things, and leading things and like...their hearts.
24. planning worship set lists.
25. I miss when Brad would cry during prayer
26. I miss funny brad.
27. Gelato with Bard
28. Shish.
29. The way the kindalls call me Nickolai, and before that, Neko.
I've been thinking about Sam and Julia a lot lately. I've just flashes of memories I haven't thought about it in so long. Like late nights at Nina's doing homework. Picking up Julia while she waiting for Brad, ordering pizza luce and watching trashy tv. Gilmore girls. Guitar Center dates with Sam where he would try to teach me guitar. House sitting #whenthepastorsaway.
Then it obviously goes to late night texts about their mom, when i would get out of bed and drive to be with them so their dad could be with their mom. When Julia begged to say with me for a week while her dad was gone and her mom was home. Going to check on Sam. Having to tell them their mom left and wouldn't be around for their birthdays. Watching brad pray in front of everyone that one time it happened during check...and scooping Sam and Ju up and taking them with me because they shouldn't be alone. Their graduations, their grad party.
Then wondering why after so much prayer and trench digging....it didn't work. Why she's in KY, our baby church and community is scattered and everything that we worked so hard for....didn't work. And maybe it's my heart reminding me how deeply i love them and i haven't checked in on them enough, and maybe they need it. So many things. And they come and go without any consideration for what i'm currently doing.
What i'm finding though, is that these things are bittersweet, but mostly sweet. These are the things that i LOVED. I can remember exactly how it all felt when it was good. It was so good. so fun. so fulfilling. It lit me up, it pushed me out, and it made me happy. I'm not mourning it anymore, really. It's so much of who i am. And i loved it, and hated it. But i haven't spent time remembering it. The way if felt. The girl I was. The girl i'm working my way back to. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be paying attention to, but I am paying attention.
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