truth.

i know i won't get it right
i mess up most of the time
but even as i fail
He blesses me anyway
(that's grace)

You are my beloved.

failure isn't the end.
it's a new beginning.

let the beloved of the Lord
rest secure in him, for he
shields her all day long and the one
the Lord loves, rests between his shoulders.

hallelujah,
every breath is a second chance.

shh.

i know you're scared.
i know you're hoping for a fast solution to whatever is making your soul quake like it hasn't in a long time.
the words, "it'll be okay" can't reach you now.

the words letting you know that I'm here,
watching you,
protecting you.
they're too far and few.

shh.
it really will be okay.

please stop and hear those words.
i love you and will make sure you're okay.

just sit, breathe and sleep in my embrace.
i'll chase it all away,
'til you're ready for another day.

out of guilt.

a character in the book i'm currently reading says that she believes her father is writing her letters out of guilt.
he writes notes of his life: his wife, his children...essentially his new family to her every month or so.

she hasn't seen him in about 10 years.

something twisted inside me.
he actually writes to her.
he probably doesn't know what to say,
where to start.

and then i thought of you.
it makes sense, you're my dad.
i think of you in situations like this.

it made me wonder why you don't write.
why even facebook isn't small enough a window
for you to initiate a superficial relationship with me.

you don't feel guilty.
you don't feel guilty to write to me dated reports
of your life. of your wife.

and that really sucks.
i'd say it sucks for you, but i really don't think it does.
'cause it looks like you really don't care.

i don't like clams.

it's true, i don't like clams.

when you shut down, turn off any indicator of what's going on with you...
we both know something's wrong.
that defensive mechanism, of you being stoic and being in a surly mood without explaining why...
it hurts.

we both know you're in pain, and you pushing me away makes me want to walk away.
i don't like walking away from you.

i'm an esfj.
i help people, and you flat out denying me any sense of me being able to do that hurts.

you make me feel like i don't matter, like i couldn't possibly offer anything to you.
which simultaneously makes me wonder why i'm even still in this friendship.

i've thought about it, walking away.
i've thought what life would look like without you in my life, and guess what?
you're worth fighting for.
you're worth me asking and pushing, and groaning when you're silent or when you physically walk away 'cause you just don't want to talk to me.

you're worth it.

written words.

I've come to realize that I love the written word.
I love the fact that I can interact with different personalities, perspectives, and emotions within the words of blogs, books, articles or small quotes that appear in a fortune cookie.

Writers that are transparent, and who i read often have become friends. i laugh and excitedly wait until their next blog post, their next book. (when i finally get the book in the mail or buy it... it's an amazing day.)

Sarah Markley has become a hero to me. She is able to write with transparency, passion and truth. Her love of the word is strong, and her ability to transfer her emotions onto her writing space is incredible. She challenges me to make time to question. Question myself, why I do things, why I don't do things.

   One of the first blogs I read by Sarah was, "The REAL Real Me". It hit deep. It asked me consider the things I hide from others, and stirred that part of my soul that wants to be known by my friends.

   Sarah's a mother, a wife and as I jump into this new season of life (as I leave UCLA) Sarah's blog gives me a glimpse of what life as a mom and wife will soon be. The joys and trials of marriage, the beauty in raising daughters, all the while living a life full of hospitality, wonder and a much needed time of rest every day while walking with Jesus.
  
As I've learned more and more about myself as I read Sarah's blog, I have realized why I am addicted to the written word. She writes the way I desire to, like an open book. She gives her heart away to readers that she does not know, and she does so freely.

May my words one day reflect a heart (like Sarah's) that seeks after Jesus, seeks to be more like Him and challenges readers to do the same.

crumbling bridges.

crumbling bridges are hard to walk on.

the past few weeks i felt like i was losing my friendships.
 i haven't been as attentive as i've been very self focused.
throwing pity parties for myself and wanting others to baby me...
crumbling bridges are difficult to repair.

i spent a lot of time in my room and not really talking to friends.
trying to re-enter into deep conversations about their lives and what God has been up to...
it was awkward.

i felt the strain and the reminder that friendship is a two-way street. friendship, true friendship, is forged in the day to day... in the messy, ugly and also joyful...
but every aspect is important.

i have limited time left.
time to invest and learn, time to lay a foundation so these friends, brothers and sisters will be in my life forever.
yes, i want them to be aunts, uncles, mentors... the family that i will have as i continue on this journey of life-seeking the permanence of a home, the reflection of jesus in a mate, and the joy of small souls (get it?) running around my home that will be home base.

let the mixing of cement (for the foundation) begin. :)

dancing through life.

i like dancing.
correction, i love to dance.
it gets incorporated into a lot of facets of my life
walking to class,
dance parties when i'm alone in my room,
randomly as i'm standing in someone's living room
...
dance is a part of me.

i wiggled a lot right after i was born.
nurses couldn't really explain it,
i was born four months early
(yay for preemies)
and they expected me to be still,
moving only when i needed something.
and yet i was wiggling like no other
while laying in the NICU.

one of the nurses mentioned it to my folks,
my dad replied, "she's worshipping God."

as i've grown, i still dance.
always.
the best part of high school was dance class.
finding my voice through movement,
through song.

and as i finally think back to those weeks
after emerging from the womb.
it resonates, clicks.
i am a dancer.

perhaps not a professional one,
or a decent one at ballet,
but my body and soul are complete
as i dance for my Savior.
all the day long.