Tuesday, May 31, 2011


Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.

~William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

Yesterday was a long-awaited day for me.

Because finally, after so many days of weeping skies and turbulent clouds...

...of grey and dismal mornings turning into dark and storm-laden evenings...

...the sun broke through and turned the world into a fairytale once more.

The sun made its glorious appearance just in time for a flawless day spent down beside my parent's pond.

And oh, the glory of this day!

Fishing poles in hand, the four-wheeler speeding over the sloping hills and flat meadows, and the laughter of children flooding the summery air.

There was no day more perfect than yesterday.

I spent a portion of the hours curled up on a tussock of grass with the rays of sunlight leaving kisses on my nose, fishing pole between my fingers and a little blonde-haired boy weaving nonsensical stories into my ear.

It was a day of magic.

And as I laid there, gazing out over the beautiful blue water and watching the splish-ripples pool out from newly-cast fishing lines, I could not help but have my eyes drawn to the flitting creatures darting above the pond's mirror-esque surface.

Wings like lace, delicate and woven as intricately as though some magical spell had pieced them together bit by bit...

...soft and beautiful, iridescent and glittering as though painted with some sprinkling of wishes and fairy dust combined into the most perfect blend.

To those who have no eyes or hearts to see, they are naught but buzzing insects.

But to those of us who have lost our hearts to Narnia and Neverland...

...fairies just might be real.

Because, you see...

...I do believe in fairies.

They are what you call dragonflies.

[W]hen the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now when every new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy. ~James Matthew Barrie, Peter Pan

Sunday, May 29, 2011


Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by. Life is like that - one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out all right... ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

I have an affinity to blankets.

Regardless of the weather -- be it so bitterly cold so that icicles drip from my eyelashes...

...or agonizingly hot to the point that I want for nothing more than to dive into a pool of the clearest and wettest water...

...a blanket is my closest companion, perfect for a moment curled on the couch while watching a favorite Jane Austen movie, or sprawled on my bed with a treasured novel.

I have one such woven sidekick in particular.

It is an old quilt that my grandmother made for me when I was twelve years old...and it has indeed seen many better days.

It is ragged in some spots from continuous use, speckled with tears and faded spots from childhood ailments and teenage broken hearts.

The patches have patches of their own now, and what was once a beautiful hand-stitched offering of love is now a much-loved threadbare scrap of cloth.

But oh, how I still love each thread and each patch.

It's a story of my life, a glimpse at scraped knees and first middle school crushes...

...photographs woven in cloth of late-night sleepovers and summertime picnics.

No matter how torn it becomes, or how much it continues to fall apart, I will never have the heart to send it packing to the dustbin.

It is my legacy.

A legacy in cloth.


"There is a kind of happiness and wonder that makes you serious. It is too good to waste on jokes." ~C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle.

This has been a day of strange joys.

The thudding roar of intense rain, the flash and crack of yet another storm sweeping over the earth, overwhelming me with a strange combination of innocent wonder and chilling fear...

...driving through the deluge, surrounded by a waterfall of raindrops...lost in a whirlwind.

The sweetest surprise of being chosen among a crowd as one of six bloggers who won a beautiful giveaway hosted by the sweet and beautiful Anna Grace at Roman Holiday...

...such honor and joy that caused me to cast my twenty years of maturity to the side for just a moment and let out a squeal of unbridled excitement.

The unexpected blessing found in a sweet word of love from a friend close to my heart but far from my presence...

...realizing that someone is thinking of me and praying for me, even from so far away, is such a tender and comforting joy.

But then, even in all these earthly delights that have seemed to be the greatest of treasures...there was one moment of my day that far surpasses any other happiness that I have yet experienced.

I spent my morning, hands raised and eyes closed, simply lost in the glory and majesty of the King of the Universe...heard His voice whispering in my ear, and felt His tender love encompassing my heart.

There is no place on earth I would rather be than in His presence...no feeling more comforting and sublime than the one found when the realization of what my Lord out of His intense love for me.

He is my treasure...

...my passion...

...and my utmost delight.

"God can't give us peace and happiness apart from Himself because there is no such thing." ~C.S. Lewis

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Petit Gâteau (Cupcake)

How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone. ~Coco Chanel

I am a tiny person.

To be quite honest, it's one of those things about myself that I greatly despise.

Standing at a minuscule 5'0, I have often felt a bit ridiculous and rather...well...looked-down upon.

This might seem like a rather foolish or trivial issue upon which to spend any amount of time....and maybe it is.

However, it doesn't stop me from bearing extreme disdain toward my short legs and my lack of height when it comes to just about anything.

It's a frustrating reality to have to ask my younger sister to reach something off the top shelf, or to not be able to shop at normal stores in my search to find jeans with cuffs that don't drag well past my toes.

But then, I stop and press my nose against a bakery window...catch myself glancing through a fashionable wedding magazine...search among internet photo galleries...

...and I begin to see a metaphor frosted, sprinkled, and arrayed in delicate design.


Standing in their own tiny, brilliant glory...holding their place, right next to the ten-tiered wedding delights.

They've arisen to a place of fashion...a place of honor...become the new sought-after treasure in the world of the sweet and sensational.

And they most certainly are nothing great. Nothing tall. Nothing oversized or grand.

They are small and delicate, but powerful enough to bring the wide world of pastry to its knees.

And so, I will live like a cupcake.

Small things are not silent things.

Small things are not worthless things.

No, not at all.

Small things are destined for greatness.

"And now my head will be lifted up above my enemies around me, and I will offer in His tent sacrifices with shouts of joy; I will sing, yes, I will sing praises to the Lord." ~Psalm 27:6

Friday, May 27, 2011

100 Petals

"I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind..." ~Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Within a space of days, another monumental event in the life of my blog has arrived.

100 posts.

Every last moment that I have poured into this blog is special... poignant and individual...each one with its own fingerprint and its own value, if only to my own heart.

I never knew a hundred moments could mean so much.

I never looked at the world through such oddly painted glass before I set this electronic pen to paper...

...before I set my soul, bare and fragile, before the world.

Each one of them is a petal upon which I have etched some strange illuminated magic....each one unique and precious.

Some of these bits of floral paper radiate out from the same floral center, while others come from strange and beautiful buds all their own.

It is as though a candle has been lit beneath them, bathing them with the golden light of heavenly inspiration until they take a different shape and cast a different shadow than ever before.

And as I count them, until fingers and toes run scarce, I am overwhelmed by my own passion.

I gaze back from une to cent, from एक to सौ, from one to one hundred...and I can do nothing but fall to my knees in wonder.

To have began in such a lowly state, and to have slowly risen to a place of delight and friendship...

...to picture-windows and wardrobes...to hand-bound poetry to gilded Dawn Treaders...to Hogwarts and Cair Paravel...

God, You have touched my hands...anointed my fingers...guided my dreams.

I am honored. I am overcome. I am lost in Your majesty.

I am a candle in the night.

A house upon the hill.
A petal in the breeze.

Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius. ~Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Été (Summer)

"I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious." ~Albert Einstein

(This post is in celebration of the blog party hosted by Jocee @ Cupcake Dictionary as she celebrates her 100th follower. Congratulations, beautiful girl!)

I have made no secret my love of the spring and summer months....

...never have I striven to hide my dreams of wandering Paris streets, umbrella in hand...a secret stash of dollars in my pocket...

...whispered desires of café au lait and leather-bound books in open-air pâtisseries.

Summer is my time of waffle cones heaped with strawberry ice cream...beach-side dreams of Hugh Grant and Johnny Depp sightings...mani-pedis and Imogene Heap albums, sprawled under a tree with my bare toes tingling in the grass.

I adore the feel of the sun running its reviving fingers down my neck as I scrawl LOVE in the sand, watching the waves take my footprints and words back into its salty depths...

I long for wide open grassy fields, lost in my own tiny patch of blue sky...

...wishing for a moment to be wandering among the English hills in the mentality of Lizzie Bennet or Marianne Dashwood, a flower-decked straw hat captured between my fingers, lost in the thought of some romantic sonnet composed for my ears alone.

My summers are yellow and plum...Dr. Pepper and peaches so juicy that their joy trickles out the corners of my mouth and down my chin and neck...mornings of watermelon and nights of sapphire...pool blues and maple-leaf greens.

So banish your shoes to the back of the closet, and pull out your passport.

Wax your surfboard and throw open the curtains.

Grab a sugar-frosted cupcake and a book -- from novella to dictionary -- and float out to sea in a small, wooden boat.

Leap into sparkling puddles and dance barefoot in the lawn with daisies in your hair.

...never waste a moment.

...never waste a summer.

Año (Year)

"Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes / How do you measure, measure a year? / In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights In cups of coffee / In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife...how do you measure a year in the life?" ~Seasons of Love, RENT

365 days.

When you look at those numbers, three simple digits, so very small and almost insignificant.

But when you look a little deeper, you start to see all the things that are captured in those simple little marks on the page...in the space of a year.

Whispers of joys -- shared moments between friends, celebrations and monumental occurrences, some of which happen only once in a lifetime.

The splashing of tears...unspoken sorrows that are often only implied and never spoken outright. Tear-stained pillow cases and watered-out ink scribblings upon innocent pages.

Yes, a lot can happen in a year.

And to be honest, I never thought I would get this far.

I'd blogged before the beginning of DramaticElegance, and honestly, it had never really gone anywhere. My thoughts alway seemed to hit some kind of block, or I simply found myself wandering away and losing interest.

Perhaps it was because I felt stiffled. I felt like I couldn't simply speak out and share the depths of my heart with the world. Perhaps I felt as though I would be judged...that nothing I had to say was worth anyone's time or attention.

But then I decided to try again...just once more.

The name came from my best friend's clever and creative mind. I asked her for a word or two that best described me....it look her no more than two seconds to say "dramatic and elegant." The name was created in an instant.

And so, a year ago today -- May 26th, 2010, I began.

And I have never once looked back.

58 followers. 98 posts. 365 days.

To each and every one of my followers and readers: I thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read my heartfelt scribblings and to impart so much wisdom and love to me.

To Jocee at Cupcake Dictionary, thank you so much for the new layout, design, and for all your delightful input into my blog and into my life. Thank you also for the one-year celebratory button that you made especially for me.

And to the King of the world, my Lion and my Lord, my Savior and Salvation...I give You all the highest praise, honor, and glory. You are the One for whom I write, and the One to whom all the credit is due.

...so now, I ask you, my readers...what can I do to be better? Why do you read what I write, and how can I improve?

The second year has begun.

I will go further up....I will go further in...

...and I will strive for His glory.

"When did love become unmoving? / When did love become unconsuming? / Forgetting what the world has told me / Father of love, You can have me / You can have me." ~Sidewalk Prophets, You Can Have Me

Wednesday, May 25, 2011


"In dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own." ~Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

I love these rain-glistening nights.

These nights that I spend leaning against the windowpane, gazing out at the raindrops running down the glass, glinting like diamonds in the streetlights.

It's nights like these that allow me to dream...

...to dream of tumbling down the rabbit hole after Alice and her White Rabbit...to find a place where up is down and tea is the balm to any complicated mind.

I wish to dream of carousels, rising and falling atop a painted horse...secret kisses on the boardwalk, his lips alive with hints of sea-salted air.

My mind is alive, eager to find the place whispered to be located just past the second star to the right...

...to find the land where my King is a Lion and centaurs leap through the trees.

The wind carries me over the sea...to sip my tea and pour through the pages of a leather-bound novel, tucked away at a tiny cafe table in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.

These are my dreams.

These are my wishes.

They are not possible in my waking moments...

...not yet, anyway.

So now, I will sit and gaze out the window at the sparkling raindrops...

...and I will simply dream.

"You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." ~C.S. Lewis


"And that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God." ~1 Corinthians 6:11

There are so many things I love about summertime.e

The warm weather and gentle breezes, the trips to the beach and vacations with family.

But there is one thing I love more than anything else -- summer storms.

Last night, we received one such heavenly explosion.

Thunder crashing loud enough to rattle the window panes...winds so fierce that trees were bowed...pebble-like hail snapping like popcorn on the pavement...

...and the rain. Oh, the splashing torrents of water pouring down from thick, black stormhead clouds.

As I stood at the slightly-opened door, gazing out at the terrifying beauty on display, the rain began to splash up from the stoop and began to soak my feet and legs.

Only a few moments spent outside to close my car's windows was more than enough to soak me through and cause streams of clear rainwater to flow down my face and neck, pooling into droplets on my eyelashes.

I was completely drenched.

And it was in that moment that the reality of God rang so clear in my heart and soul...almost the point of causing me to shout aloud with clarity.

I want to be overflowing with God.

I want to drown in His majesty.

I want to be swimming in the River of His love, covered from head to toe in the peace that passes all understanding.

I want to leap into the puddles of His joy and salvation.

I want to be so close to Him that droplets of His power soak me through, and act as evidence to the entire world that I am serving at the foot of the Cross.

I want to be drenched again.

Then I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your filthiness... Moreover, I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; and I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh." ~Ezekiel 36:25-26

Tuesday, May 24, 2011


Then followed that beautiful season... Summer....
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I'm not sure what today is.

Is it a spring day, with its cool breezes and twittering birds in the gently swaying tree branch?

Or is a summer day, with its sky of the most perfect blue, frosted with wispy hinds of cloud, and the beating kiss of
the golden sun?
It is neither one nor the other.

It's "sprier."

A flawless mix of spring and summertime...a rare find, like some jewel of perfect caliber found in some desolate ruin amid the unyielding desert sands.

And so I lay sprawled across my blue bedspread, on my stomach with my ankles crossed behind me in a reminiscent fashion of my high school days...

...windows open wide, the melody of the breeze causing the curtains to dance and my hair to rustle over my cheeks.

The air is scented of flowers and freshness, the faintest hints of rain and fresh dark earth waiting to be upturned.

This is a day for daisy chains, widespread meadows, straw hats and bare feet.

This is a day for acoustic guitars, un-lined sketch pads, and charcoal pencils.

This is what I love.

I want this...always.

Summer is the time when one sheds one's tensions with one's clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world. ~Ada Louise Huxtable


"Sometimes I wish I was someone other than me / Fighting to make the mirror happy / Trying to find whatever is missing / Won't You help me back to glory..." Beautiful, Bethany Dillon

I hate the mirror.

I know I shouldn't.

I know that I'm supposed to look in that reflective piece of glass and "love the skin I'm in," or whatever tired cliche is in fashion at the current moment.

But I don't.

I feel unpretty.

I look in the mirror and I see a sea of imperfections...so many things that might not even be visible to others...

...things that make me cringe and ache for a rock to shatter the mirror into a million razored shards, despite the stigma of bad luck..

...because even bad luck would be better than counting my flaws one by one until I run out of fingers and toes upon which to keep a tally.

I look at my female friends, the beautiful people with whom I surround myself, and I ache to share their looks...

I want to banish my curves to the back of the closet, and to fit in their size 2 jeans...to toss a head of smooth, silky hair...to slip my feet into normal sized shoes instead of those of my ten year old sister-in-law...to reach the top shelf at the bookstore instead of having to ask a taller clerk to assist me.

I just want to be beautiful. Just for a minute.

It's a struggle. It's a painful ache that throbs at the core of my soul.

But then, Truth begins to push its way past the boulders of my own self-shame.

...I know He sees my flaws. Those things I hate about myself, the things I would call "ugly."

He calls me by name.

He is the lifter of my head, drawing my eyes from my own reflection to His glory.

He is beautiful. And I am His daughter, His chosen one.

Made in His image. Lost in His wonder.

Time and again,

He makes me beautiful.

"You make me beautiful / You make me stand in awe / You step inside my heart, and I am amazed / I love to hear You say / Who I am is quite enough / You make me worthy of love / and beautiful." ~Beautiful, Bethany Dillon

Monday, May 23, 2011

Moi (Me)

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings

My blog got a makeover.

And to be honest, I could not be more in love with the new look...almost to the point of being giddy with sheer euphoric delight.

The new look is truly a blessing straight from the hand of God to this humble blogger.

My sweet friend and fellow blogger, Jocee (who can be found at Cupcake Dictionary) gave a great deal of her time and energy to making my little blog look truly beautiful.

And so, to her, I raise a cup of coffee. Brava, sweetheart!

But as I sat at my computer, observing the new layout and design of this little corner of the internet that I call home...I was truly struck by something.

The blog finally looks like me.

Before, my blog's design was pretty with hints of my desired drama and elegance...but it lacked any sense of personality or transparency. It was vague and airy with very little of my fingerprint to be seen.

But now...it's truly paints a portrait of who I am.

My heart is made of red velvet curtains and sheet music, with a hint of rose petals for good measure....beating to the rhythm of Parisian streets and carriages passing atop cobblestone-paved avenues.

My blood runs red with passion and delight...composed with hints of freshly brewed coffee, melted chocolate, and the ink from a thousand pens.

My eyes glitter with stars and imagination...my nose is flooded with the aroma of country breezes and white jasmine.

My lips are laden with poetry and prose, glory and honor to the King of the universe.

My Hogwarts letter has been lost in the mail, and the plaintive cry of the wolf makes my breath rise and my skin shiver.

I am the love child of music and candlelight.

I am the daughter of Aslan, and my song is love.

I am a princes of the Kingdom of Heaven.

I am a thundering whisper. I am a roaring lamb.

I am no one else...

...only me.

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. ~Dr. Seuss

Saturday, May 21, 2011


Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. ~Langston Hughes

I love the rain.

There is such an incredible medley of magic to be found between each flickering raindrop.

Rain is one of those things that can be altered to fit the mood of the beholder. It's the most comforting of weathers, I think.

When you're happy, filled with joy and delight, it provides puddles in which to leap and a rhythm to match the skipping caedence of your gleeful heart...

...for is there any greater joy to be found then that which is found in the child-like leaps and cries of delight as water splashes around your bare toes?

When romance comes slipping through the doorway like a long sought-after friend, the gentle falling drops seem to sing a love song and paint the world with a glistening diamond sheen...

...for what is more romantic than a shared umbrella for two, hands atop hands, or a deep and tender kiss while being soaked through by the pouring rain?

When your heart is breaking, it provides a mask for your grief, mingling with the tears running down your cheeks as it murmurs soft words of comfort...

...for what greater comfort is there than having someone to weep with you when the world is collapsing all around you?

When the grief is passed and as your heart begins to mend, the rain flows down over your heart and soul, washing away the blood and the tears...

...whispering, "see, it's alright now" as it teaches you how to breathe again...how to feel again...

...for what greater release is there than to feel clean, restored, and renewed as the clouds fade from grey to white?
Yes, there is magic in the rain.

There is love and whispers, sorrow and restoration, delight and shame...

...all can be found in the innocent drops of water winging their way to earth from heavy-laden clouds.

And all you have to do is step outdoors, turn your face to the sky...

...and feel.

All was silent as before -
All silent save the dripping rain.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Friday, May 20, 2011

Étrangères (Foreigner)

"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." ~Lewis Carroll

(This post was inspired by a post done by the beautiful Jocee at her blog Cupcake Dictionary)

This world is strange to me.

There are times that I walk down the street, and I think, "do I belong here? Is this where I truly fit?"

Because, if i am truly honest...I don't feel normal here.

...but then again, would I want to?

This world has shut out the impossible.

Reality has become defined by the senses, truth by the individual and not by the fact.

I'm a dreamer. Perhaps a bit too much.

But I don't belong here.

Because I believe in the impossible.

I believe in Truth. I believe in Light. I believe in Him.

Six impossible things, you say? Well, here you are.

1. I believe that I am loved, regardless of my broken past.

2. I believe that the King of the universe traded in His crown of gold for a thousand thorns -- for me.

3. I believe He's coming back to take me to His kingdom to reign with Him forever.

4. I believe that, through His blood, my shame is gone...my life is claimed...and my past and future is forgiven.

5. I believe that Death has been overthrown and Hell has been defeated.

6. I believe in Jesus Christ.

Impossible? Most definitely.

But with my God, all things are possible.

And I was right...I don't belong in this world.

... because I was made for another place.

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." ~C.S. Lewis