writer's life

I’ve been reading Vinita Hampton Wright’s The Soul Tells a Story for the past few days. Reading this book is seriously like therapy. It’s helped me recognize and channel so many things I feel confused about as an artist.

I’ve been growing so much in the past couple years and honing in on what makes my gift hum. Growing up I focused in so much on writing and consuming books and poetry that I think sometimes I forgot to be a kid. I was always so focused on things that often times I preferred the solitude of my own mind to the social circles around me. I am still very much this way and I forget that not everyone around me understands my need for seasons of quiet.

Much of my truly inspired writing comes from pain, or grief, something that stirs up an emotion I may not be ready to deal with yet. And when I have no conscious way of processing what I am going through, I write. And to write, I need solitude.

As I get older and grow outside of myself I am learning how to listen to what my soul is telling me. And as much as people around me love me, I know the way my mind and my heart work are not always easy for them to understand. So this brings me to my point…I’m lonely. Now let me say, I have a wonderful family, a genuinely amazing boyfriend, and ever-supportive friends. But there’s no community. No like-minded writers to remind me that publisher rejections are normal, that the erratic emotions I feel are part of the writer’s life and connecting with my characters or even my readers. That I’m normal. I’ve spent so long in solitude that I don’t think I realized how much I needed other people in this area of my life.

Granted, this is not to say I am some depressed being thinking I am alone in the world. Every area of my life is filled with support, be it from friends or family. But this part of me, the part of me that spurs my existence, my purpose, longs for people to share my gift with.

Seasons of life come and go. Sometimes on repeat, and I am okay with that, because I know that the Muse will come and go as she pleases. And I know to take advantage of the seasons when I don’t feel like I write enough. But now I realize that the seasons when I have had enough are important too. I have to listen to my heart, my soul, know that it’s okay to rest.

I’m not sure what’s next. I know there is a community waiting for me somewhere and it will come when it’s meant to. And I am that much better for having shared this with all of you, like a load has been lifted off my shoulders. For now I wait, and I write.

Blessings to you all.

MO. 

Eighty-four.

My grandmother would have been eighty-four today...

There haven’t been many days that pass that I don’t think about her. She was so much in my life, and yet I still feel like so much of her was foreign to me. We had an unexplainable bond, one that always made me feel safe with her. She made me laugh, and took care of me when I was sick. She told me of a time past, and she gave a piece of herself to me in every story. She was beautiful, inside and out.

I miss her. More than any words could say. I miss what she could have been to me in this place in life. What guidance she could have given to the woman I’ve become. But more than anything, I miss what she was to my family. She was our matriarch, our foundation, our center. And as we struggle toward life without her I am grateful most for them. For our continued perseverance and our willingness to be there for each other, because she would have wanted it.

It’s at the end of this day that I’m most solemn for her. But I remember a dream I had the day she died, and I’m renewed by that lovely image of my beautiful grandmother and that glorious red hair.

I love you, Grandma…and Happy Birthday.

transcendence

I'm literally sitting alone in the parking lot of an old church. It's empty, it's late afternoon (my most inspired hour). I'm sitting here trying to evaluate how my life now has morphed from my life on a pedestal. Oh, how the mighty fall. I often wonder if there really were people anxious to see me fail. I imagine there must have been, there always are.

But alas, I'm this shell of who I once was. Struggling to re-identify my existence with the person I'm striving toward. The more I breathe in this quiet faith, the more I think it suits me. Christianity isn't meant to create harm, or pain, and least of all judgement. Christ meant for us to be healed, to be encouraged, and to have new life breathed into us.

I've been rescued from a false life and I should be grateful for what I've been spared. I'm humbled, I've been shown mercy, and I've been justified in my faith.

I'm at a quiet place in the road. One that's not for anyone else to understand. A simple quiet place that's calling to me deep inside, urging me to make a choice. And I only have two: remain in anger and shame, or embrace who I have become in the wake of judgement and transcend that mercy. I'm not the only forgotten one. And I'm certainly not the worst off. There are plenty who can benefit from my love, and my passion.

It's to those I focus now, and I take a step toward my future at this fork in the road. I'm ready for a new dawn. I've been saved by grace and I shall live my life accordingly.

Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly.

i giorni

It's crazy looking back at the journey of this blog. So much in so few years. I've come into a new place, a new leg of the journey; a new adventure. I'm not sure when the transition took place, or how it even began. All I know is that I'm happy. And healed in a way I didn't even know I needed to be.

Life has thrown me for such a crazy loop and yet I look back fondly on the struggle. I'm learning all these wonderful things about myself, about what I'm capable of, about who I am and want to be.

I'm in love with the most amazing man. A man who brings out the best of me, who compliments my crazy nature in such a perfect and profound way. It's new, and exciting. I'm so blessed, so extremely and deeply blessed by his presence in my life. I'm ready for whatever is on the horizon for us, and for the first time in my life I'm taking it all in stride. One moment, one inside joke, one day at a time. Did I already say how happy I was?

And my writing. How do I even express how much fulfillment I have found in poetry? It's like it all came rushing at me one day. A wave of purpose and direction, and in an instant I had found this wholeness in reaching for my destiny. Profound Muse has gathered quite a following. And as my attentions turn to sharing my writing with the world, so does the course of this blog.

I'm a happy girl. Lucky, blessed, fulfilled. And I'm excited to share my next adventure with you. Whomever you are. It's time to awaken my voice, and my words, and share the pieces of my soul I've captured on paper "with my own two hands."

We move onward, and upward. And I thank you for sticking on this journey with me.

Here's to life, and living.

MO.

a struggle towards a dream

I sit in a quiet room, a bedside lamp and an aching memory. The depths of me are clawing at the surface of my mind, my fingertips pulsing with fervor. All I want is to grasp what is hanging in the distance. Put a name to the feelings that stir in the silent parts just beneath the depth. Struggling towards a dream.

It’s now, in the quiet of the night that everything pours over. That the walls close in, that the need to breath, to move, to feel, overwhelms me. There’s an image, faint and pure, waiting for me in the valley. Clearing as I calm my mind and my heart. It’s you, the haunted memory of you. The marking on my wrist taunts me, as I try to forget and ache to remember. Live it says. And I struggle towards that dream.

My mind pulls me back there often, back to place it all started to fall apart. Back to place that holds my fears. In the moments of silence, when my heart is uneasy and my mind is weary, that I’m drawn back to the place where my emotions held all the power. Where the purest form of faith and trust I ever had was broken and stripped away. It’s on nights like this, when my fingers refuse to stop moving, when my heart finds it impossible to slow down, that I see how very real that mark should be. Live it says. And every day is filled with the struggle towards that dream.

in between

"Out of your vulnerabilities will come your strength."

Sigmund Freud

healing, breathing, living

"Of one thing I am certain, the body is not the measure of healing, peace is the measure." Phyllis McGinley

As I walk this path of grieving I've found so much joy in surrounding myself with people who see the brighter side of life and trials. It's been such a rough year. One full of so much loss and heartache. And yet, standing where I am now, looking back at everything I've learned makes all of it so worth it.

I've come a long way once again in discovering who I am, living a little more brightly everyday, breathing more deeply at every turn, healing the deepest parts of my soul that were left barren and dry. I'm whole. And now as I'm turning the pages to 24, I feel like I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

It's the measure of my life that gives me peace. It's knowing that I've worked hard to surround myself with those who love me, support me, cherish my place in their lives. And so much more, surrounding myself with people who see the worth of living as much as I do. My circle gets smaller as I get older and yet so much more profound with every passing day. I find peace now, in knowing I'm living my purpose, I'm surrounded by love, and I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

It's this peace that brings me healing, and it's this healing that reminds me how important it is to breathe deeply and live brightly.

MO.

existence

lived, liv·ing, lives.

To be alive; exist.

To continue to be alive

To support oneself; subsist

To reside; dwell

To conduct one's life in a particular manner

To pursue a positive, satisfying existence; enjoy life: those who truly live.

This idea of “living” has been heavy on my heart the last few weeks. My grandma passed fifteen days ago, though much of that is still a blur. And much of me is still numb to the aftermath. It was in watching her body enter into a new life though, that my own life became something to think about, to meditate on, to commit myself to.

It’s a wonder how many times we start living just to fall back into the habit of existing. It’s so much easier, safer, to follow the path of our consistencies. So much harder to step off that path and breathe. There are two things my grandmothers had in common, two things that set them apart from most women in my life. The first, was their love. It was whole, and pure, and never failing. They loved with everything they had inside of their beautiful souls. The second, was that no matter the circumstance they found themselves in, they lived. Lived wholly, purely, and without fail.

I watched as both my grandmothers lives faded away, accompanied by a pain that can’t be described. I saw the life fade from their eyes, the splendor fade from their smiles. And as much as it brought pain to my own life, it brought peace too. For whatever burden they left behind as they entered the gates of heaven, I knew, that every day of their lives was spent with love and living.

I’ve come to an interesting place on my own path. Reminded now how easily I slip back into existence when there is so much left to live for. I’m reminded of their strength, their beauty, and their love. And in the wake of their passing I am filled with all the love they left behind. Made full by the tenderness of their hearts and made strong by the intensity of their character. I am driven now, more than ever, to pursue a satisfying existence, to enjoy life…and truly live.

To both my grandmothers, may my life be a legacy to the love and the strength you filled my soul with. And may you look down upon me with pride and know that it is your strength that has shaped my life. I love you both, Thelma and Marie. May you both rest in Peace.

live.

Nothing can prepare you for the moment a loved one takes their last breath. No hospice book or endless amount of advice can show you what it’s going to feel like when that person is gone. The sting of sorrow that I feel is counteracted by the relief that she’s no longer in pain.

I dreamt of her just a couple hours after she left us. Cheeky little thing she was I imagine it was her doing. One final gift, to erase my last image of her lifeless in a hospital bed. She said goodbye to me, kissed me on the cheek and told me she loved me. And it was my grandma, in all her glory-- bright red hair, bright red nails, and that beautiful lipstick she always wore. Her shining eyes telling me she was ready, and she was happy. It was all the gift I needed.

Sitting here now on the floor of my room, next to an empty hospital bed, I find some sense of solace. She is at peace. Her body in its perfect state, her mind awash with newness. And I can look forward and know we’ll be okay. We’ll feel the tinge of sadness at her absence in plenty of milestones to come. But we’ll find a way to keep her memory alive. Be it in a name, an action, or some silly story. We are her legacy, and there is no way, as long as we’re alive, that we’ll ever forget her.

Rest in peace, Grandma. We love you more than words can say.

a lyrical soul

Life is comical sometimes. I've been rediscovering my love of words lately. Rediscovering the root of my desire to be a writer. And mostly just rediscovering me, in a new and complete way.

I finally committed to being a vegetarian. My last stop in fully reforming my life this past year. It feels good. Feels like I've finally become who I always strove to be. And I've come full circle in my life as a writer.

My deepest desires as a child were rooted in poetry. I tried to be a journalist (I was semi-successful in this area), I tried to be a novelist (why did my characters all turn into versions of me?), and somehow at the end of it all I found myself seated in a Barnes & Noble with a poetry book in hand. Alas, I am finally a poet again. Actually, I think I've always been one.

Is it really possible for one to have a lyrical soul? Is the life of a romantic sustainable in such a world? I'd have to say yes...and yes. There's something that comes bursting out of you when you accept who you are supposed to be. Who you were born to be. I cannot deny that words are my passion, and somehow, someway I inherited a love for sharing my heart with others. The two blend together in perfect harmony.

My heart, my pain, my passion, my sorrow, my joy...all spread out on paper...or blog, for the world to see.

I've finally found a way to share all my emotions with others in a way that puts my passion to use. Writing about the heartache of the past year has been done so vaguely, but lately I've felt the call to really share the details of that pain. Really share the manifestation of such an experience and I'm intrigued by the response of those around me.

The dream of being published has become more than just a dream lately. I've tried fighting against my passion before, but now I'm accepting it with open arms. I love poetry, I love words, and I have the biggest group of cheerleaders/supporters I could have asked for.

I know this journey has just begun, but I do love a challenge. And this time around I'm a person I've never been before. I'm stronger, braver, and more complete than ever before.

“GENIUS MIGHT BE THE ABILITY TO SAY A PROFOUND THING IN A SIMPLE WAY.” -CHARLES BUKOWSKI

life and death

So, I started a series of writing to kind of experiment with poetry again. It's slowly becoming a collection of poems about "The In Between." What lies between fear and courage, or night and day? It's been a burst of creativity, one that I am hard pressed to deny.

And so I've started collecting the inspirations and writing them as they come. This one in particular is about my grandmother that sort of came pouring out as I was holding her hand in the hospital. It's an interesting thing how much pain can trigger inspiration. But alas, I don't claim to understand these things. I've just simply come to accept them.

The place between life and death is a hard place to be.

As I watched her deep breaths surrounded by the machines pumping life into her, I could think of nothing else but the pain she was in.

This woman, full of joy and beauty, was stuck in the in-between. Reaching, aching, for heaven and being held to earth by the love of her family.

The love for her family.

The day was fitting. Dark clouds, a gusting wind, a solemn understanding.

Her mind had ceased working, as it should many months ago. She was clinging to the memories she had and relying on the others we could give her.

The sound of nurses bustling around in the background filled the room. Everything felt like slow motion, like a dream.

Was she awake or asleep? The voices seemed so distant, the strength she once had so unattainable. It was a siren’s call, a plea, a bargain.

Heaven was calling.

Would she answer the call today?

a joy unending

Do you ever wonder about how God chose us? As majestic and wondrous as He is, He chose us. His love, unconditional and endless, is truly amazing.

I entered this year full of pain, grieving and broken and now here I am full of a joy so overwhelming and perfect I can’t even put words to the way my heart feels. It is the presence of His love that made all the difference; He chose me, and he drew me closer to Him.

I was so fearful eight months ago, that I would never want marriage again, that my future was this melancholy blank canvas that was sure to not be as wonderful as it could have been. I couldn’t see anything in front of me, and that reality was something I was deeply scared of.

I can’t even begin to put words to the incredible things God has done to my heart, to my dying spirit, my lost passion for writing. He brought this gentle and comforting Love to me. And in the moment when I wanted to push Him away He held me tightly, knowing more than anything, I needed my Papa. He reminded me of the one constant part of my identity, I was His child, and He loved me.

I am 23 this year, two weeks ago to be exact, and for the first time I feel my age. I feel the excitement that comes with being 23, I claim the wisdom that has come with the things I’ve endured, I feel curious about the future, I feel free. But most of all I feel joy. An exciting and wonderful joy, that even in chaos remains.

An amazing musician wrote this song where he describes how beautiful our God is, how amazing it is that He loved us first and how because of Him “every smile is arrayed with a joy like wedding bells.” The simple fact that I can feel a joy like that is testament in itself to God’s grace and His love.

I’m still in this place of unknowing. I don’t yet see my future much farther ahead than the next week. But each day He gives me a piece of the puzzle, lights my path a little bit farther ahead, heals my broken spirit in another way. I am so blessed, so unbelievably blessed by God to be in the place in life that I am right now.

I am no longer just a wandering soul. I have a passion for people, a gift of prophecy, a love of words that encourages and heals, a voice that yearns to raise its praises to our Father, and a heart so full of His love and joy. I am the best I have ever been, and the wonderful part is that I have no idea what’s next. And I’m okay with that. I loved by my Father, and that is more than enough.

Blessings.

Mo

where i stood

A letter to you.

It's  ironic how Missy Higgins was the voice of reason that told me I loved you. Driving to your house one day and hearing her voice, I just knew. And it was driving home one day, hearing her sing that I was reminded it's really over...

Her words are a bit more eloquent than I can seem to make mine...

I don't know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it's all or none

There were sounds in my head
LIttle voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

See I thought love was black and white
That it was wrong or it was right
But you ain't leaving without a fight
And I think I am just as torn inside

And I won't be far from where you are if ever you should call
You meant more to me than anyone I ever loved at all
But you taught me how to trust myself and so I say to you
This is what I have to do

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood
Oh, she who dares to stand where I stood 

There is so much love in my heart for you, and it's the small things that I think will remind me of you for a long time. I see Law & Order and can't help but think of your mom, I saw your comment on a Boundless article recently and I remember endless discussions coming from the things we read. It will be your insane love for shoes, Monster energy drinks, the beach, and me that I will treasure.  I adore you. I always have, and I know that at least now I can look back fondly on all the things you taught me, the gifts you gave me, and I can be grateful for the person you were in my life. There is nothing but my hope for your amazing future left now. 

But now I know I need to live life single. I need to find out where that road leads me. I need to discover my own definition of who I should be. But I fully believe there is someone who will compliment you in ways I was never able to. And she will love you more than I could. You have such a wonderful future ahead of you, full of promise and happiness with someone whom you cherish. I am always here should you need me. And I have loved you more than anyone I have loved at all...

Mo.

revived, refreshed, ready

She sat listening, as the rain hit the pavement, the thunder rolling in the distant sky. The days had gotten longer lately, harder, full of trial. Her heart had ceased to heal the way she wanted, but as she listened to the raindrops fall and let the smell of renewal overwhelm her she could sense Him. She could finally feel Him. She couldn’t count the number of days since she had felt his presence in this way but the air was alive with His love and His embrace. The wind was full of His power, His majesty. In the midst of the rain, and the cold, she knew He was calling her name. He was surrounding her and it was a welcomed sense of comfort.

The world had stopped, the sound of rain echoing in her now distant mind. She could smell the wet Earth; feel the wind as it embraced her. But her Spirit had awoken with the desire to lift her face to the heavens. She was alive, alive in this moment more than she had been in many days. And despite the ache in her heart there was an endless joy. The endless call of the earth’s praise towards the heavens revived her.

----

This is my prayer, in the desert, in this seemingly endless season of sorrow and trial, that my heart remember this moment. Remember this overwhelming sense of joy. The sound of earth praising it’s creator, the underlying beckoning of my Father for my heart and my pain. He is the one who hears my cry, he knows my fears before I bring them to his feet and he will deliver me from them.

I will rejoice in this moment, rejoice in the renewal of my hope and my faith. I have a reason to praise. If only for this sound, this smell, the color of a darkened sky, the power of a blowing wind. In every season, even in this desert one, I will rejoice. And I will let the sorrows that fill my heart now, build me into a stronger woman. So that when I am emptied again my hope remains.

----

It was an amazing sound, the loud rolling of thunder and the cry of the heavens. It brought the desert to life. It was in this darkened time, when the sky was black and everything was wet, that she felt the Lord around her more clearly than any other time. And she saw it, the symbolic nature of such a thing. It was in her weakness that she too felt close to the Lord. In the times when sorrow seemed abounding and the season of trial seemed to never have an end that she drew herself closer to the Almighty Father. That she was brought to her knees.

She knew then, that the clouds would linger for a time, the tears would fall. But in the end she would be new, revived, refreshed, ready. It was an ironic connection she had to the rain, but here in the desert she was grateful for the gift, an endless earth full of endless joy. It was hers for the taking, and she would not hesitate to accept the peace.

When the rain ceases, the promise will remain. And in His arms I will reside. Revived, Refreshed, and Ready.

in memory of...

About a year ago I joined a sort of online forum for writers. It was a courageous move for me, I think I even blogged about it when it happened. It made my writing come to life and I was able to join in on the writings of so many talented people. There was a particular writer, Stephanie Bell who I just happened to stumble across one day. She was just barely eighteen but so talented. She had a gift and it would be easy to imagine that she could have written best-selling novels if she wished it. I received an email update on one of her stories this week and much to my dismay it was not a new chapter on her story, but a eulogy written by someone close to her informing us of her passing.

I didn't know something like this could hit me as hard as it did. But I was broken today. This young woman's amazing words were silenced by a drunk driver. And she was only two weeks away from graduating high school. Being a writer in itself is such a passion for me. It goes deeper than I could ever have imagined, but the day I accepted my gift was the day I let my heart take in everything that came with it. This young girl was a kindred spirit, someone who had big dreams and amazing passion. And she's gone.

I never met her, but I was addicted to her words. She wrote with ease and I'm even more saddened to know so many of her stories will go unfinished. It's such a saddening thing for me as a writer. I'm not even sure how to put the feelings into words, and words are what I do best...

Life is so precious, so short. The legacy she leaves behind in words is still something of amazing caliber, but what it could have been is so hard to not feel grief over. I mourn her loss today, and I pray for her family. Pray for the anger that they must feel for being stripped too early of an amazing and talented young woman. And I pray for everyone else on the forum that lost a great friend, an amazing source of talent, and someone who was quick to offer encouragement to her fellow authors.


The very words she quoted on her profile.
“We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.”
-Chuck Palahniuk

In memory of Stephanie Bell.

my sensible heart

I've been on a tremendous journey of rediscovering myself these last few months. It's been an adventure and a step of faith. I think for a person to truly see themselves for what they are they have to be vulnerable to the outside world. Cast a bit of themselves unto the ones they care about and see what is received, what is interpreted, what is given back.

It has been a difficult task, to be that kind of vulnerable to the world. For as much as I have been strengthened by the trial that has come, I have been equally weakened. My heart, my tender, passionate, sympathetic, sensible heart has come very far from the heartache I felt three months ago. But in it's wake I was left with a bitter taste of uncertainty and a lingering sense of doubt. I have always believed in the people I love, no matter the cost. And I learned the consequences that come with that action. However, I don't know that it is something I want to change, merely something I must cope with now.

I've learned a lot about myself, relearned even more. And its frustrating to me, to see the pieces I tucked away, the things I tried to deny myself, and the unnecessary pain I endured. For what?

And yet, it's been like coming home. Touching pen to paper, feeling the burden on my soul lift and an overwhelming sense of peace take its place. I've remembered the passions that keep me alive, the things that give me purpose and for now I'm okay with not knowing where I'm headed. I'm okay with discovering what twenty-three year old me is all about. I've learned to trust my own heart, listen to the things that my soul cries to me, and understand that I am a complex and beautiful woman with a soul that goes deeper than many will ever discover.

I've recognized that it's always been easier for me to pour myself out onto paper, than to express the depths of myself face to face. I'm not sure why, maybe it's more poetic this way. I've learned that solitude is necessary for me after a long day with friends, that I'd rather curl up with a book than spend a day shopping. I'd rather loved and lost than not loved at all. I've come to see how real and valuable my emotions are, there is nothing wrong with me, contrary to what I was made to believe. I'm a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, and a girl who has learned how to protect herself from the people who might take advantage of that.

I've learned to see myself through the eyes of the ones who truly love me. See the qualities in myself that they so often point out to me. I've come to latch onto them, the strength, the fire, the passion, the desire to be me. I'm grateful to them, for the woman they see, the one they have helped me rediscover. It is to them I cast my vulnerability, and it is them that have given me back the greatest gifts I could hope for. They've given me back my life.

It's been hard. I won't deny that. It's been nights filled with tears, days filled with time-consuming activities, mornings in solitude. And at the end of every day, I grew a little bit stronger. I grew a little bit more into the woman I have longed to be. This season is far from over. But I think now I'm finally getting to the exciting part, the part where the manifestation of this trial takes center stage. I'm a new woman now, and I couldn't be happier with who I have become.

"I hope to learn as time goes by
that I should trust what's deep inside
burning bright oh burning bright
my sensible heart"

Blessings.

Mo

i can finally breathe

Well, if I knew I was making a prediction about my life a month ago I may not have written that blog. Talk about changes. Everything in the past few weeks has turned me upside down. A future I had planned and dreamt about ceases to exist now.

I'm single.

Took me a few days to swallow that statement, but I finally did. My friends have been my saving grace these past few weeks. I feel a little at a loss for words. I was on this path that seemed so steady and then in the blink of an eye it was all taken out from under me. I'm not sure exactly how I feel at this moment. It's a mixture of grief and joy. I'm just not sure what side I'm leaning towards more.

There is this blank canvas in front of me. Anything I dare to achieve is in front of me, and yet that seems so terrifying. Life has been so safe for years now. I was going to get married, be a wife, one day be a mother, do missions. So set up and safe. And yet now, well I have no idea what is in store for me. And that's the part that is kind of cool and kind of not.

There is this ball of emotions in the pit of my stomach concerning what happened and yet I can't find it in myself to be angry. I'm just ready for life to move forward, ready to breathe and find out who I want to be. The 22 year-old me is so different today than I was a month ago. I could never have guessed my life would be on this path, but now that I am here I don't want to go back. I started a list of goals for myself. A list of things I want to achieve, and for once in a really long time I started to wonder what kind of man God would have for me. It's foreign to me, and part of me still feels so uncomfortable with the idea of a relationship, but I'm still curious.

I'm confused and excited. Saddened and filled with wonder. I'm anxious and joyful. And all I can think is that I'm more ready to take on the world than I ever have been. The world feels revived.

This song does a better job of putting into words the emotions my heart can't quite process yet.

Anberlin "Breathe"

This is surrender
To a war-torn life I've lived.
Scars and stripes forever
In need of change I can't resist.

No need to hide anything anymore.
Can't return to who I was before.

I can finally breathe.
Suddenly alive.
I can finally move.
The world feels revived.

This long of a struggle
Finally opened up my eyes.
Revolution's not easy
With a Civil War on the inside.

No need to hide anything anymore.
Can't return to who I was before.

I can finally breathe.
Suddenly alive.
I can finally move.
'Cause I realize.

I can finally breathe.
Suddenly alive.
I can finally move.
The world feels revived.

my hands are holding

There comes a time when God reveals something to you that brings the Bible to life in a way you can't even describe. I've had these moments my whole life. A time when the words you read click together and you reflect back onto that lesson you learned, that mistake you made, that brought the verses to life. Gave them meaning, made you see life in a brand new way. But sometimes, there is a redefining moment in life where God so desperately yearns for you in a way you don't deserve, but a way that makes you feel whole, alive, complete. He is more than enough.

This past year... well, it was hard and I looked away from the Lord a lot. Falling further from grace than I ever wanted to, but his redemption is so sweet. And his love..I can't even describe the way his love made me feel all those times I felt alone. October hit me hard this year, a revelation of how short life can be- yet in a way I never ever want to experience again. Each second, I spend in self-pity, in anger, in pride, is a second I can be spending showing someone else the love that I have been so freely given. A love that is unmatched by anything in this world.

Life is such a small whisper on the wind. So many grandeur things to plan and dream of, and yet such a short spark to fulfill it all in. The time I've wasted in the last year...I wish I hadn't. I learned so much from that despair, and saw once again the love I've had all along form my Savior. But the time I've spent on my sin...I'm only grateful I have come to a place of redemption.

Every breath, every taste, every smell, every new adventure. I'm grateful for the newness of each day, the grace that is extended my way. The chance I have to serve others in every way. I'm rebuilt, my heart has mended, my spirit no longer quenched for the love of the Savior. I'm alive. This overwhelming cry of my heart has come forth. I'm no longer existing. I'm alive. And I am will remember the days of the past, holding tight to the lessons I have learned from the terrible mistakes I have made, and I won't look away from the Savior. I have not earned his love, he has given it and I will look in the Savior's eyes filled with love and know I belong. I belong in those arms, enveloped in grace and love.

I fought with the devil this year, and I'm ever so grateful the Lord fought for me. Because there was a time I didn't know if I was going to come back to the Lord. I was utterly lost and completely frightened for my soul, but that feeling...that small tug on my heartstrings, the whisper of forgiveness--if only I would turn and look. Shame, pride, anger. I wrapped it together and forced it at the Lord. Take it! Heal me! I could think of nothing else to cry out. He heard me and He delivered me from my fears. (Psalm 34:4)

This year is going to be another growing one. I'm kinda looking forward to stretching. Its been an adventure already. A new wedding date, a new position at work, a new store, a new haircut. Fear of change is a terrible thing, but I'm hoping this next year brings peace about that. I've learned many things, the dichotomy has been formed between my past and the future. This moment, this place in my history is bookmarked as a time when I grew up. And I'm glad I stopped fighting the hands that are holding me.

Blessings.

the pendulum

"Yesterday I lay on the floor, and cried. I'm too ashamed to open my eyes this time...

Humiliated and broken. Hurting inside..."

I was in class early this morning, hoping for an empty room where I could work on homework when I walked in on a young woman performing this song in sign language. What an amazing gift she gave me today. It was an honor for her to let me watch and I was so moved by her song and the grace in which she performed it. She told me how the song had been heavy on her heart lately, and I was so grateful she had found some peace in performing it. I never even caught her name come to think of it, but it was a really beautiful thing.

I've come to notice that I write most often when life is kind of somber. I'm really not sure why that is. Maybe it's out of that ache that good writing comes. But I know good writing comes from joy too. I think, that in my own life, its easiest for me to write when things need figuring out. I can sit here and type them out. Let my confusion take me on a journey in a way.

The pendulum of my life has been swinging pretty hectic lately. I'm not sure what side I'm on right now, I know I'm just hoping for a bit of guidance.

My Asian culture class has been talking a lot about the idea of unity and how life is kind of a cycle. An Asian theme of continuity, but much the same as the idea that life is full of valleys and mountaintops, not just a straight up or down. As humans we constantly use patience, humility, kindness, greed, selfishness, pride, etc. to keep the pendulum moving. And I think its the understanding of such things that has helped me become more grateful for the journey. I may not have control over all the things that move the pendulum, but I do have control over my own heart, my own guilt, and the sins I carry that I must lay down before the Lord.

I'm not really sure if it's just my age, or the place in life, or both, but I'm becoming more aware of how much growing up I am doing. How much stretching and shaping I think the Lord has done in me in the past few years, and how much more humility I will need to get through the next few. I find myself reflecting a lot during these times, remembering who I was and reassured that I have come a long way. If I could take a snapshot of life, right here, right on this side of the pendulum, I think it would show how grateful I am to be loved by the Lord...and the trail of sorrow I left behind in the wake of the Lord's renewal.

I'm blessed to be his daughter.

upon remembrance

It's been a somber day. One filled with reflection, remembrance and pride. 

There are two dates that stand out in the past couple of days. The 9th and the 11th.

My grandmother, affectionately named Grammy, was born on September 9, 1939. She died September 29, 2000. Irony in those dates. She was an amazing woman. One with courage and fierceness that many only dream of possessing. It was breast cancer that claimed her life, but it was faith that marked it. She never lost faith, even in the face of chemotherapy and despair.

The effects of her absence, of course, have lessened over the years. And living days without her have gotten easier. It's in the milestones of my life that I long for her, but I know how proud she would be of me in this moment.

Her birthday was filled with memories. Memories from both ends of the spectrum, but on that day I thanked the Lord upon every remembrance of the beautiful woman that was my grandmother. I thank him now for the remembrance of her beautiful face, her charming heart, and the light that always seemed to shine even in her darkest hour. Even when she could not remember our names or recognize our faces, when the cancer had claimed her brain...even then, her light was extraordinary. 

When she passed I would often sit on our porch and watch the yellow roses that bloomed in our planter. That winter for some reason the rose bush died and in the Spring it didn't bloom again. I was devastated, because those yellow roses became a symbol of the woman she was. And so, time went on, and a year later in the Spring a beautiful and majestic rose bud popped up from the ground. It wasn't yellow anymore, no it was red.  But those red roses were the most amazing gift of love from my Papa, a gift that let me know it was time to stop grieving.

Ironically enough, yellow roses symbolize gladness, friendship, joy, and the promise of new beginnings. What a new beginning I received.

And so, today the remembrance of 9/11 comes back to me. It was so close after losing my grandmother that the state of our nation changed forever. It was a defining moment of my generation; and a defining moment in my grief. 

It is today that I can look upon my grandmother's memory and my nation and reflect at what transpired, remember the emotions and the loss, and feel proud. Proud to have known a woman so full of Jesus and proud of my country's courage in the face of tragedy.

We may live in a fallen world, but we also live beside people who shine bright in it's darkness. I am so blessed to have been born in America, and so blessed to live in a place that allows men and women like my grandmother to shine without fear of death. I'm so extremely overwhelmed with gratitude today and I know words can not express the joy I have to be the granddaughter of Thelma Barton, and a citizen of the United States.

God Bless.

Philippians 1:3 (NKJ)

"I thank my God upon every remembrance of you"