Tag Archives: grace

today: a Wednesday not so long ago

Some days are about stopping, forced pauses and seeing. Life abounds. God, here.

On A Wednesday not so long ago, I felt walls closing in on questions I could not answer. I lacked sleep and perspective. Blinded to goodness, I staggered through the day, wallowing and grumpy. The sun shone, though, beckoning me outdoors. I leashed the dog and packed my camera. I walked. And I saw. It was a return to gratitude and perspective. Life abounds, God, here.

tonight: horizon

“Bravery is leaning into love.”
-Emily Wierenga (her exquisite blog, here)

This image, from summer? Sigh. Love.

wide horizon,
and sitting, chilled so pulling a sweater tighter
broad expanse,
and dreaming, filled so opening arms up wider
deep wonder
and believing, still so soaring ever higher
grateful dancing
and God, here, so I’m alive-r
grateful dancing
and God, here, so I’m alive-r

today: valentine

He races his bicycle on the weekend, and he rides fast. He doesn’t always win, but sometimes he does well. And his pleasure in it is evident. He tells stories of racing weekends, face expressive and bright, relishing the fact that he gets to do this and that he does it well enough to be competitive. He knows that not everyone who has the desire to excel in a sport has the opportunity or ability to do what he does. He is passionate, and he is thankful. Collin was made, among other things, to ride a bike. It’s a window for him through which he sees how to live fully. I love this about him.

Getting to be with someone who has a grasp on what it is to live out of who he is moves me. Collin provokes me to want to live life alive in the way that he knows how to be alive. We aren’t perfect in our relationship by any stretch. In recent months, we’ve needed to learn how to disagree, fight and let go, and at times, we’ve both been exasperated and frustrated. I’ve needed to stare my selfishness in the face. It’s not always pretty. In the midst of growing a relationship, we find ourselves aware of our fragility and vulnerability, especially on the days that have been hard. And yet, that hunger to live so alive and so full, it drives us, both of us. These past months for me have been a process of learning to love and be loved right in the midst of life happening, good and bad, ugly and beautiful, allowing hope to trump fear.

Last night, we prepared dinner together and worked on our various tasks, chatting. He walked the dog to the mailbox. I made him a smoothie. The eve of Valentine’s Day was quiet and restorative. We are busy, separate and together. We wanted some quiet and normal before this week gives way to company and races and photo shoots and too lengthly to-do lists. We prayed before he went home, thankful for a great day and asking for good sleep and an awareness of God’s presence. I know that not everyone who wants someone to do life with has someone, and sometimes relationships break, fail, abuse, hurt or die. I looked at Collin last night, and I found my heart passionate and thankful that he is here and that he is mine. Collin is one reminder of God’s kindness in my life. He gives of his heart with confidence and grace, and he speaks words that welcome me into his story. He cultivates beauty in my life. He expects goodness.

I love that we are friends.
I love that we are taking our time.
I love that this is the page my life is on.
I love that he is my Valentine.

I was made, among other things, for this, here and now.

Thanks for indulging my need to record a little Valentine’s Day verbiage.

tonight: oh this? itislife.

“It is not length of life, but depth of life.”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

oh this? it is life
with turns unexpected and twists dramatic
with soft-spoken hopes and bone-jarring fears
with a yieldedness (or not) to grace
and a drifted-ness from doubt to faith
with a quiet, quiet, quiet way that stops my stumbling

bread, cup
broken, bought
death, life
redemption (always)
aware or not
incarnation and oh,
resurrection

and oh, this? it is life
and oh, here? here I am
alive

today: update andmoretocome

This silence of late is not lack of words or story; rather, it’s fullness of life overflowing with relationships and photographs and running and breaking up with caffeine (that deserving of a post all to itself… soon). Collin and I made some big adjustments to our eating. I’m trying to be better about sticking to a schedule. Sleep is for eight hours most nights these days. And when it’s busy? Well, I need/crave/want/prioritize time with God and try to do the same with time away from the computer. Some days I succeed. That said, I miss writing and hearing from you (if I have any readers left after all this silence).

I love fall and the change in season. It stirs my heart in a way that provokes processing. It makes me want to ask questions and hear answers, curled up on a couch with a book or lingering with old friends over cold beer and easy conversation. And it makes me want to write. So write I shall. Hopefully will be very, very soon. In the meantime, here are some picnic photographs, because while I’ve been not blogging, life has continued. When we are busy and the weather permits, we love picnics.

a simple meal
and a quite spot
and a playful puppy
and outside

These things reset us; we thrive in these moments, Collin and I. We connect with God. We connect with each other. We remember life is good. We say thank you.

Life is good. Thank you. Much remains to be told.

tonight: sunday morning and coffee…

“Each morning when I awake, I experience again a supreme pleasure-that of being Salvador Dali”
-Salvador Dali

Sunday morning and coffee and prayers
a walk with the dog canopied under cool and blue
quiet is the early
grateful is the heart
awakening, awakening, awakening
this: grace
Sunday morning and hope and wonder
a recognition of new mercies this morning
steady is the faithfulness
grateful is the heart
awakened, awakened, awakened
life: gift

This I know: God is near.

today: go (somewhere).

“Too often. . .I would hear men boast of the miles covered that day, rarely of what they had seen.”
-Louis L’Amour

Last night, over swordfish and orzo he prepared, we talk of life and of going, somewhere. This summer, so hot, seems to dash my spirit, time and again. I travel in the fall but had returned from a weekend away. Hurricane Irene caused my brother Josh and I to take a different trip than we’d expected: to Colorado instead of North Carolina. Collin hadn’t gone with me; he raced his bike. I was tired, having had an active weekend with Josh that looked like early mornings and yielded sore muscles. We ate, though, and I could see Collin’s face light up as he daydreamed out loud. This world, a playground, and we hear God’s invitation to participate in a word: explore.

I wish I had my camera to photograph the sureness on Collin’s face as he talked, for it mirrored something I know: going (somewhere, anywhere) widens the world, expands sight and shifts perspective. There. Is. More. I go on trips for a number of reasons: to see friends, to work, to participate in mission work, to do something different, to relax. This weekend I went to spend time with Josh and to get away. That was it. We found ourselves, though, strengthened and filled with anticipation and hope for the coming season. It was as if our hearts needed a bit of a reset, and we received it. Our everyday is not the whole of every day. There. Is. More.

It feels like a gift, this reminder.