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9/16/2018 1 Comment underneath a streetlightthe other night, i met an older couple underneath a streetlight. they smiled when they saw me & then we raved to each other about the beauty of the night & then we talked for the next few minutes about the journey life is & our conversation ended with an invitation for me to come over their house the next morning for pastries.
i wrote down their address & memorized their names & let the admiration i felt for them stall me & stun me as i walked away from my new friends & marveled at the kind of radiance they embodied that even the stars above must be envious of. i showed up to their house the next morning & they were waiting outside for me with their garage door open & packed with boxes of baked goods from the bakery down the road. they welcomed me like i was their guest of honor & handed me a bag to fill with whatever looked good to me & asked me questions about my life & my mind. we talked for awhile as i held my plastic bag stocked full of bread & pastries & cinnamon rolls & i don't think they ever stopped smiling & all i could think about was how these two must be living, breathing, walking angels & then as i got ready to leave for work, she gave me a lollipop from the bag she carries with her everywhere & by then i wasn’t even surprised, thinking of course an angel carries around a bag of lollipops to hand out & then she told me to have the best day & to spread kindness, that i would do just fine in life if i did. again, i walked away stalled & stunned by their kindness. & not just a subtle, surface-y kind of kindness, but it became obvious to me that they see kindness as a “that’s what i’m here on this earth for” kind of thing. i left for the rest of my day with a renewed sense of purpose & passion for the hours ahead of me. i left with a confidence in the power of kindness & in the God who created human angels like them to remind me just how kind He is & how stunning this day in front of us could be if we adorn it with kindness. i’m writing all this down & i’m not even sure why i’m sharing it but i felt the urge within me to because i want their reckless generosity & kindness that has no doubt been strengthened & refined over the years to encourage & inspire every one of us to stun the world with radical kindness in random moments & every moment. streetlights are there to shed light so that we can actually see each other & where we’re going. they are a pause from the darkness & an invitation to encounter what’s in front of us. which gets me thinking that there are thousands of different streetlights in the world : there are the standard streetlights, but there are also living rooms & grocery aisles & fitness centers & coffee shops & cubicles & hallways & classrooms & break rooms & elevators & hiking trails. streetlights are anything & anywhere that invites us to really see each other & visit awhile. the next time we pass someone underneath a streetlight of any kind, i hope we see not just a stranger, but a soul & that we listen to what they want to share with us & then invite them over for pastries. & maybe a lollipop, too.
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9/11/2018 0 Comments sun showersi'm sitting on a bench in a no name park in the middle of a sun shower. it's a bit past noon & the sun is still soaring high & proud & there are grey clouds splattered across the baby blue sky as if God's finger painting out here in golden, colorado & rain drops are kissing my forehead & notebook pages. the thunder sounds angry & the leaves are shivering in response & i am the only one here to watch the show. to watch the sun shower.
& at the moment, i can't think of a better metaphor for this wild life we live. life is absurdly complicated & when i try to wade through the complexities of relational dynamics & aging dreams & childhood memories & present grief & the ebb & flow of seasons, their weighted beauty & heartache overwhelm me. which leads me to believe that life is nothing but a steady sun shower that we are always showing up for. life is never one-dimensional. it's layered & heavy & multi-angular & anything but black & white & i think there's something relieving about that. there's something relieving about knowing that we are always living in some sort of tension, in some kind of unfinished. & one of the secrets to life is learning how to live in its discomfort. right now, i'm navigating through the second year of my twenty's & learning to define what healthy risk looks like & learning what long distance friendship requires & struggling to redefine success & figuring out how to piece together a productive schedule & how to be a God lover & how to make new, meaningful friendships & how to love ben creatively & how to seek out adventure in the ever developing moments. in some of these experiences, i'm showing up to them for the first time & others i'm revisiting, but in each & every one of them is something like a sun shower : a consistent unfolding of what is bright & damp & what is chilling & soothing & i'm here, bathing in their unpredictable magic & breathing in the everlasting show above me & inside me : the sun's shine dancing with the grey clouds. 9/7/2018 0 Comments the chasetwo months down of living in colorado & i’m slowly settling into a steady appreciation for my new home. i’m learning the bends in each mountain road & memorizing the way home & figuring out the house chore that makes my sister the most happy when it’s over with & realizing what it is i do that makes my nephew laugh the hardest & learning the best way to hug & hold my new niece.
& although it’s all been beautiful & exciting, i feel the thrill of being in a brand new place simmering itself down & the excitement evening itself out & i’ve learned that with the dimming of anything comes a challenge that has presented itself to me over & over again throughout my life : the challenge of quitting “the chase.” this is how i define “the chase” : a state of constant hunger for “one day” & exhausting angst for the next experience or the next thrill or the next purchase or the next visit or the next best. the chase has always been a faithful companion of my life routine. as a little girl, i couldn’t wait for the bell to ring for recess & as a middle schooler, i couldn’t wait to try out for the basketball team & as a high schooler, i couldn’t wait to get my license & then i couldn’t wait to graduate & couldn’t wait to go to college & couldn’t wait to graduate college & couldn’t wait to move out to colorado & so it goes. & i guess this cycle is part of what it means to be human : we are restless beings, tossing & turning in time & scurrying around to stock up on what we think will leave us finally satisfied & sprinting towards what’s next, then trampling over the present in our rush to get there. i don’t know if you find yourself like this, but i know this is so often my chorus & i’m exhausted from it. i want to quit the chase of what’s not here, yet. instead, i want to prize what’s right in front of me, give it my full attention, stay awhile. i want to replace my angst with gratitude. i want to walk from one morning to the next & from one night to the next instead of sprinting through them & missing the sights on my way. i want to be engaged with today, even when it’s hard to & fall in love with what i see & what i hear & what i feel & what i read. i want to love the days & not wish them away or wish they pass by faster. as a beautiful woman wrote in her stunning memoir about living with & dying from cancer & how to treasure the hours put it, “these days are days. we choose how we hold them” (the bright hour). this is a mighty challenge & a tall order, but i really believe God gives us a thousand gifts a day & gives us the permission & the grace to quit the chase because He knows we’ll be better off when we do. & i think because He’s good & faithful, He wants to gently fill every crevice of our thirsty hearts with Himself & with the freedom & the joy that comes from knowing we have nothing to prove & nothing to earn & that every day, because of the cross, even in our chase & restlessness & constant craving for what’s next, He sees us as perfect : perfectly whole & perfectly spotless & perfectly His. yes, we are oh so perfectly His : in the past, we always have been, in the present, we always are, & in even in the chase, we always will be. 8/27/2018 1 Comment golden hour(s)my mom & sisters & i am wholeheartedly convinced the best hour to be at the ocean is during “golden hour,” or at around five o’clock when the sun starts to cool down & turn a deep orange & the waves seem to hush & crash slower & the sand settles as families funnel off the beach for dinner & the seagulls soar above us, content & indifferent. we crave this hour & all that comes with it & when it does come, we celebrate its every moment.
& this got me thinking : what if we pursued every hour of our lives as golden hour? what if we saw every day as not just another day, but as a sequence of golden hours that are constantly unfolding radiance & a peculiar kind of beauty that is unique only to this day? what if we saw each of our hours today through the lens of gold & as an invitation to live spent & courageous & always, always hopeful? what if we dared to see the magic in it all? i’m still in the space of figuring out exactly what i mean by this & how to live it out practically, but i think it starts by using our minutes to reflect on how we want to be remembered & live forward from that. i want to be the kind of person who points out the tie-dyed sky to a stranger in the parking lot & the kind of person who stops to admire a little girl twirling her dress around in a coffee shop, then tells her how beautiful & smart & courageous she is & the kind of person who thanks the man who puts my shopping cart away after he put away hundreds before mine & the kind of person who believes the best in people & the kind of person who lives like light, every golden hour of this day. because today is here & it’s happening regardless & i’ve had to tell myself that a dozen times just in the past week because otherwise i’d let frustration & discontentment drown out my gratitude & sometimes i found it already had, but there’s always a second chance to begin again & i’d rather choose to see every hour as golden instead of as anything less than that. i want us all to believe that there’s treasure right here in front of our eyes & it’s right now that holds a rare grace that’s just waiting to be basked in. life is full of golden glow, but i also know that some (if not most) hours are downright hard & not so golden & i think it’s ok to admit that & be in that space for however long we need to be & recognize we’re not alone in it & tell each other that. we shouldn’t call our dark hours what they’re not, but i also believe we can always find the golden shards poking through our dark hours, like seashells glistening under soft sand & the golden hour sky, revealing that regardless of what we face, there’s always a grace to discover in the midst of it. 8/11/2018 0 Comments limit-lessas i’ve thought about it, i guess part of what drives me to write words is an urge to try to reclaim some images of each other & of God & of the world that fuel hope & love & joy & all those words that are often hard to come by, hard to muster. i write to share & i write to discover & i write to learn more about this pursuit of the best in life & trust that something will come of it. i write because i need a permanent reminder that God really does reveal His character & His image in everything, like in the lady at the spice store who never stopped smiling at me & the guy carrying a dozen roses downtown & the girl on a bike i drove past who was dancing to her music without a care, just loving life.
i write because i heard a message the other day & the woman begged her audience to read God’s word & bask in His love & my instant internal reaction was, “i really, really want to, but what if God’s voice in His word sounds mean to me sometimes” & then i paused & dug underneath my gut & what i found were dozens of images & interactions & sayings & pictures of who i was told God was & some were helpful & some felt hurtful & most felt dangerous & i learned another lesson that day : when we tell each other who God is, it will either be extremely helpful or extremely damaging or somewhere in between, but it will nevertheless almost always impact our pursuit of Him. i’m not saying that the truth about God is never uncomfortable, or that it’s never confrontational, or that the Bible is there to make us feel good about ourselves when we feel down, or give us a pat on the back when our self-esteem is low. this isn’t a post rallying for a watered down version of the gospel — in fact, i wasn’t planning on writing about this at all, but it’s a message that’s heavy on me because so many of us are weighed down & held back by shame & guilt & often what’s underneath that is that at some point in our lives, we were given a damaging image of who God is from someone who may have meant well, but that image didn’t drive us to Him & free us, instead, it shackled us even more. it’s kinda ironic that i’m writing this because here i am about to risk giving you yet another image of God & trusting that it’s who He is & serving as another voice in the world & asking you to keep reading. but i’m a writer & a follower of God & so it’s also kinda why i’m here. here it is : God is limit-less in His love for you. i will never hear this message enough : “who else makes the offer ‘come as you are, broken & battered into my love’? in every other domain of your life it’s ‘earn, achieve, accomplish, go.’ only Christ says, ‘come to me & i will give you rest.’ we are not a religion that requires us to do, do, do. we are a religion that Christ has done.” (from matt chandler - a gospel reminder) His love is constantly wooing you through the kind cashier & the hummingbird dancing & the quiet mornings & the candle burning & the crowded dinner table & the everything around you. a sweet sign in a small store reminded me yesterday that to believe that you’re loved makes you brave. & one of the best things about knowing His love for you is limit-less, is that you know that you also are limit-less in the ways you can love others & love the world. with your today, you are — we are — limit-less in the amount of love we can give, the amount of times we can be for each other, the` amount of kindness we can demonstrate, the amount of sacrifice we can give without expecting a return, the amount of times we can show up & be about each other instead of ourselves. because being a person who is about being about other people is one who exudes the limit-less love of the God who says “before you were loved by anyone, you were Mine.” i believe that’s the truth & i believe that’s one image of God worth holding onto & one worth giving away. 8/6/2018 0 Comments soft and ofteni think at our core, we all just want to be wanted — want to know there’s someone noticing, someone applauding, someone smiling, someone admiring. & i think one of the things we need to be reminded of most often is not only that we’re seen & heard, but that we’re known & wanted.
i know this sounds cliche, but it’s true & i’m gonna write it anyways : we’re all a part of a grand love story that takes place every single day. & that story involves me & you & the gentle & good God & the sunrise & the trees & the birds & the weeds & the clouds & the leaves & the person next to you & the person away from you & every thing in front of you. i’m convinced that whatever “here” looks like for you & for me, it’s all just one big explosion of His unconditional & unwavering love — all just splinters of His infinite creativity that is constantly wooing us closer to Himself. if we slow our pace & pay attention, i believe we’ll know in our core not only that we want to be wanted, but we’ll know that we are. & wanted not only by the ones who show us what love is, but by the One who is Love Himself, the One who is constantly moving & shaping & whispering to us soft & often through whatever is right in front of us. & i’ll be the first to admit the amount of time i waste unaware & discontent & dismissive to what & who’s around me. but as one of my favorite authors put it, this whole world is one giant oasis begging us to drink of grace. so i will & i have & i know that the well of grace will never dry up or let down those who’ve tasted its freedom. every moment is an invitation to begin again. to look around. to drink of grace once more. & i wrote a short poem to remind us that we’re in this together & to slow down & pay attention to His whispers that come, soft & often, that tell us in a thousand different ways, a thousand times a day : “you are seen & you are heard & you are known & you are wanted.” if you’ll spend today seeking the magic in a child’s closed eyes & in grocery lines & in a single firefly, you’ll be ok. if you’ll pause to press your heart’s beat against another’s pain & leave it there until you remember that it’s for these moments you were made, you’ll be ok. if you’ll memorize the depth of laughter & the length of a smile & the breadth of a memory, you’ll be ok. if you’ll give in to make more room & build up the heart in front of you & stay patient when it’s hardest & always point out kindness, you’ll be ok. if you’ll find the grace given today & the beauty buried in whatever’s here & train your eyes & ears to hear Him whisper soft & often that it’s you He wants, then even in the chaos, you’ll be ok. this life is
a thousand miles on foot & it is a single heart's beat & it is a diamond fought for & it is a treasure given & it is one step forward & two steps back. there are weeks i wish i could scratch out & days i wish i could do over & moments i wish God would let me breathe in just once more. there are days i chase down all the wrong things & wear down my soul & there are days i chase down all the good things, but demand they fix everything in me, yet in my wild pursuit, wherever i run, grace waits. so here i am, drenched in grace, not knowing much but knowing this : that life is a dance : it is one step forward & two steps back. & as we dance, i'm confident of this : we will break things & lose our balance & let each other down & make bold & brutal mistakes & simply be human, but by grace we will also learn from the past & create beautiful things & all in all, become more & more like light. so, with each week we wish we could scratch out & with each day we wish we could do over & with each moment we wish God would let us breathe in just once more, may we remember that on the days we thought we had it right & on the days we know we didn't, the King is still smiling & He's always been because in it all, we are healing & we are learning how to dance in the King's open palm one step forward & two steps back. 7/23/2018 3 Comments messy beginningsbeginnings.
oh, beginnings: what a beautiful & complicated mess, an incredible & foreign thrill they are. we’re all just a bunch of beginners — beginning again & again & again in a dozen different ways, a dozen times a day, every day. whether it’s a new job or a new friend or a new routine or a new church or a new recipe or a new life route — no matter how small they may be — beginnings are all around us. & they are altogether thrilling & terrifying & electrifying & downright uncomfortable. three weeks into creating a home in colorado, i find myself tip-toeing into a bunch of beginnings: exploring job opportunities, finding new friends, memorizing main highways, scouting out coffee shops & making positive impressions on new neighbors are just a few of them. & although i’m brewing inside myself a real love for this place, these beginnings haven’t come without mess & error & joy & discomfort & a whole lot of laughter. & i’m holding onto what my sister told me: that if it’s a little bit messy, then you know that you’re doing something right. here’s a snapshot of my beginnings: eating guac with my nephew before dinner & getting the call that i didn’t get the job & carrying back from the library an armful of books i know will challenge me & crying on a curb while cars passed, staring awkwardly at me & burning grilled cheese that smoked up the kitchen & then laughing with my sister on the couch about how i burnt her grilled cheese, but she ate it anyways & taking long, aimless walks under the clouds & hanging pink streamers up haphazardly on walls & under doorways to welcome home my new niece & then celebrating her birth-day with chocolate milkshakes & white roses. these beginnings have been wonderful & at times, hard & unexpected, & i’ve found myself having the urge a dozen times a day to apologize to anyone who talks to me about how sorry i am that it’s taking so long for me to grow — to figure all this out — but before i do, i stop & think about how ridiculous it is for me to believe that growth should happen in an instant. i know God could do away with the mess in my beginnings & in yours if He wanted to, but instead of doing that, i picture Him just smiling at us when we show up at our beginnings with our hard hats & tool belts, ready to work hard & figure it all out, & He, knowing full well the mess we’ll make, spreads a smile wide across His face & says, “i am so, so glad that you’re here.” because He loves that we show up with a willing spirit & He loves that we’re trying new & hard things & even though they can be messy, i think He’s just really glad we’re here because He knows we’ll grow into our beginnings, imperfectly & gloriously. // my parents arrived tonight after driving for days across the country with the rest of my belongings & after we threw what was left of my stuff into my room, my mom & i stared at my disorganized piles & she told me how thrilled she is at this new beginning & i told her that i wanted her strength to step into it & thrive in it & she told me i have it & whether or not that’s true, i desperately want to believe it because beginnings require a whole lot of strength & courage & resilience. & the beautiful thing is, we don’t have to do it alone. not only do we have the King of new beginnings who is intimately involved in each & every one of ours & smiles as He holds us in His gracious hands, but we also have each other. & all we have to do is reach out our hands & ask each other what area of our lives we feel we are beginning & then tell each other that we have the strength & the grace to endure each beginning’s beautiful & complicated mess, its incredible & foreign thrill. beginnings. oh, beginnings: what a grace it is to live them. 7/17/2018 0 Comments the world is awakethe sky’s gold peeks through
the company of trees & the wind gently rushes itself above everything green & the haze sheds its depths over the mountaintops. the world is awake. a wave escapes a stranger’s fingertips from across the lake & her laugh bounces off our breakfast plates & a man in his garden straightens himself to say “hello”. the world is awake. a sunflower dances under the rush of the wind & the gardener bends down on his knees with a handful of seeds. the world is awake to watch us create. to live is to know that the world is awake to watch us create with the passions that swell inside our souls. the world is awake & so are we. 7/14/2018 0 Comments oncei just needed some sort of pulsing reminder, some kind of gentle heart-piercing to open my eyes to Here. & the word that kept coming to mind is one that i’ve said to myself a dozen times a day since, some times audibly & other times quietly whispered to my conscience. the word is “once.”
i need the weight of that little word to send shock waves throughout the moments i subconsciously categorize as mundane & ordinary. i need the weight of “once” to create some sort of magic in my motions. because the truth is, whatever is in front of me & in front of you, really only happens once. sure, there are replications of moments a thousand times over & annual celebrations & familiar gatherings & routine dinner conversations & the same friendships, but even still, each & every one of these are shaped by their own unique nuances & quirks & i think we’ll cheapen our lives if we forget this. now, i don’t mean for this word to pose any type of threat to make us enjoy our moments, in all their mess & magic. if you know anything about me, you know i’m not interested in fear or guilt tactics that scare me (or you) into loving life, God, or people. all i’m after in my stumble towards living the most abundantly is reaching out & grasping onto anything, be it a word, phrase, or image that refuels my wonder for this beautiful life & incredible world & stunning Creator. thus… “once.” as i reflect on the four letter word & all the directions it sends my mind spinning, i realize i’m both fascinated & frightened by its depth. i tend to put a whole lot of pressure on myself to make sure i’m enjoying whatever’s in front of me & if i’m breathing down my own neck enough, it’ll send me into a panic & frantic search to fix whatever is going on inside of me. repeating the word “once” to myself is not meant to push me over the edge. instead, “once” is a tender invitation & a gentle reminder that whatever is in front of me will only happen now. & now is all on purpose. it’s really all on purpose. because the One who created Purpose, including my & your unique purpose, is all about writing beautiful stories with all of our "now"s. living out “once” looks like an embrace of “here,”. it looks like letting your days refine you, letting the Brilliant One make you better. it looks like giving your full attention to the eyes in front of you & getting down on your knees over & over again to play with a child & asking intentional questions & then reminding yourself why it is God gave you two ears & one mouth & taking dozens of deep breaths so you can dish out grace, again & letting the bitterness inside you wither & admiring the strength of the ones you love the most, then telling them about it & always remembering that the soft drum in your chest means a million things, with one of them being this: He’s not finished yet. & i think what’s most important to remember about “once” is we’ll fail at remembering it’s weight over & over again & we'll flounder through our days in frustration & maybe actually wish some days away in our discontentment. & gosh, we already have. i think that’s what’s most beautiful about a sunrise because it reminds us it’s a new day, with new mercies & that He’s still Here — that He’ll always be Here — with an abundance of radiant grace that He’s waiting to lavish us with whenever we allow ourselves to be fully human. so, here’s to embracing our moments in whatever form they come & living out “once” & welcoming the grace that’s waiting to cover us when we don’t. |
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