Wednesday, March 28, 2012

life breath :: water living

{via pinterest}
today, a dear friend posted of love like water. and i wasn't planning on writing today, simply breathing the light and the breeze into these lungs and resting in silence. but i was gripped tight by words from an unmet friend.

we are all soul-creatures, made to be seen, 
created to be tenderly cradled and adored, 
yet we tremble at the thought of it.

this has become my life. this thing of trembling at love and in awe of tenderness. it's a gift to be a bearer, to the world as well as to this child i carry. 

and so i curl on this couch with breeze ruffling my hair and my eyelashes too, and i inhale tenderness. 

a repeated in out in out in out of life. 

i felt this child move last night for the first time. 

it was nothing more than a single poke to the right side of my navel, and then a pause into silence. and then one more, a tap against my skin, a reminder that this baby is there. a reminder that i am waiting, and i am carrier, and i am life-giver.

and knowing that i am almost halfway's a breath that i can barely handle to take. 
{17 weeks. my own photograph}

but i am living in a place where love washes over, and i'm covered in the tenderness and the trembling. and that's alright, to find the awe in this. 

it's those moments in the dark where we wrap our arms around our knees and kneel within ourselves to the waves of crashing Love that threaten to overwhelm us. it's a tremble, not a cringe. it's a breathing, not a hyperventilation. 

it's a knowing of preciousness that is incomparable. 

it's a breathing, a resting. a perfect trembling.  


Wednesday, March 21, 2012

thin places

spring brings me to the thin places. those places that the Celtic speak of in reverential whispers in the silence of the night when the stars are close enough to be touched and the moon has a face of love.

the place when the line between Heaven and earth is thinner than three feet, and everything seems wispy and sacredness seems to overwhelm.

these are the shoeless places, holy ground, where sandals fall from calloused feet and the grass slips between toes. that's a prayer, right there.

i feel like these places come out with the spring breezes and impending April showers. they bring me closer to the ground, all laid out with palms flat to the earth.
{via pinterest}
but it makes me feel fragile. as things get thinner, i feel that i get thinner too, easier to break. and that's a frightening reality sometimes, when things feel so close so shatter. but it's worth it when the world gets wispy and my fingers can slip between the veil.

what i need is the dandelion in the spring. the bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. 
the promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. 
that it can be good again.
::  the hunger games :: suzanne collins ::

i'm learning to love these thin places. these little gaps between light and dark, and open and shut. i like this barefoot season of scared and holy. 

it's the glass of ice water, Life Water, beneath the spreading branches from a thousand trees. it's the whisper in the wind that sings of courage and strength and rest. 

it's the thin places. 

Saturday, March 17, 2012

dark light

live in the light
{via pinterest}
stand in the sun
never look back.

these words have been whispered to me by a thousand voices in a thousand languages for the course of my entire life. and i think if you were raised in the church, you heard it, too. 

there is a place in this world where dark reigns supreme for six months of the year. the earth is tipped and the light cannot reach it there, not for all those weeks of night. and the people there wrap in furs and tangle fingers together and wait...

because they know that there is an end to the darkness. and then comes the six months of light, and the darkness fades into a place of echoing radiance that spills from fingertips and spiraled ends of hair.

but they feel the light because they knew the dark. they cannot appreciate one without the other's balance. 

it's the same with us, the same with the life we live and the breath we inhale every single day a thousand times without even realizing. and the voices that whisper never look back are wrong to wish you blind to the past and wide-eyed to forever. 

both are needed. we have a moon to cool the sun, and a sun to warm the moon. we must have both for tides and seasons and growth.

what matters is how you breathe in the night. do you stare at the midnight and scream light is dead, and never will come back again?

or do you look at the stars and say there is light here. 

for you were once dead in your sin
but God, rich in mercy, made us alive.
:: ephesians 2:1, 4 ::

i refuse to stop loving for fear of the night. i will dance below the stars instead, fingers spread toward the moon and inhaling beam after beam of silver light. 

for i was once dead,
but God...

Friday, March 16, 2012

love thyself

{via pinterest}
there's a lot of things we're forbidden to do in this life.

as Christians.
as women.
as breathers.

and it's confusing sometimes. the world whispers love thyself to the broken ones, and then the woman who just learned to love herself is covered in whispers and pointed fingers and lowered glances.

then it's broken all over again and the slices are deeper the second time around.

it is too far a step to say that my Jesus weeps when broken ones break again, especially in His house? He's the one that said come to Me, heavyladen ones. for My burden is light...

this makes me want to stomp the ground until my bruised feet bleed and sob for the unborn one dancing against my skin at night. because in barely a breath's time, i will pass a life through fire and water and blood into this world, and this small life will inhale a world that already is out to destroy.

and my little one will grow into this place of love to hate and love again turned to shredded paper scraps of hate that used to spell a love letter from Heaven to parched ground Earth.

and what they will teach my daughter is clucking tongues and judgemental glares if she doesn't quite fit the mold that my Jesus has already stomped into shards of blood-covered glass the day He spread two arms wide and wailed it is finished.
{via pinterest}

and my son will learn from the school of bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks that gentlemen are dead and gone, and men are fighters and not lovers and silently seated when they should be standing on the chairs and beating the pulse of love and respect.

this breaks me down into a pool for my unborn one, for his wife or her husband, and for the ones that came before and the ones that come after.

i want my child to have the words of precious Sarah as their heartbeat rhythm, that i will one day no longer teach but they will live.

we are thumping along with you, out here in the world [soon], reminding you that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. 
and you have a voice and a reason for being. you have a future and a hope. 
know who you are, small [one], and when you forget, we'll remind you.
:: in which i write a letter... // sarah styles bessey :: 

and so i will find my place on my knees tonight, with the music playing in the background and the candles flickering around the darkened midnight room. heartbeat thudding love yourself, little one. 

because i love you. 
and He does too. 

Sunday, March 11, 2012

spring {eighth giveaway}

item no. 1
i am so excited to be bringing you this newest giveaway. 

in a way, i feel that as spring is slowly making its way here to my corner of the world, things are going to be changing. 

in a good way, i think. 

but this giveaway, for me, is a farewell to winter and a welcome to summer. the most beautiful Callie of Creations by Callie has knitted some beautiful items, and has given them to me to give away to you. 

item no. 1: chocolate swirl bag.  

description by Callie: because of the felted aspect, this bag is very strong and durable.  a pocket on the inside is the perfect holder for keys, a cell phone, or other small items, while a bright pink flower on the front completes this adorable bag.

item no. 2:  strawberry sunshine scarf and wristlet set

description by Callie: the scarf is a glamorous mixture of yarns in different colors, weights, and textures.  its long length allows for many wearing variations.  following the color scheme of the scarf, the wristlets keep your hands warm, while still allowing you to use your fingers.  worn together, the scarf and wristlets create a colorful combination that will brighten up even the gloomiest day! 

{here is how to enter to win one of these beautiful items. please leave each entry as a SEPARATE comment, and please leave your blog address or email address in at least one of the comments.} 

(IMPORTANT NOTE: while i dearly love each one of my international readers, this giveaway is only open to the United States and Canada at the shipper's request.)

item no. 2
entry no. 1 (mandatory): what is your favourite part of spring, and why?  (+1)

entry no. 2 (mandatory): follow this blog and put the new and improved button on your sidebar. (+1)

entry no. 3: blog/tweet/Facebook about the giveaway, and leave a link to your post/tweet/blog post in the comment. (+3, one entry per and one comment per, please)

entry no. 4: follow Callie on twitter (+1)

entry no. 5: visit Callie's shop and comment with your favourite item from her collections (+1)
EDIT: Callie's shop is down for maintenance at the moment. this entire is currently invalid.  

entry no. 6. {inspired by Jess}: go drink a nice, cold glass of water. a great way to start the springtime season off right! (+1)

spring is coming. and with it, change. and change is a good thing, touched by the hand of the One who holds the world in His palms.

this giveaway ends on April 5th, 2012, at midnight CST. winners will be chosen using an internet randomizer the next day. winners have 48 hours to contact me with their address or a new winner will be drawn

Thursday, March 8, 2012

unheard :: not unknown

{via pinterest}
there are a thousand beautiful sounds in this world.
and i ache to hear them all.

sometimes it's a whisper of wind in the trees,
the Voice speaking courage, dearheart. be still. 

other times it's that symphony of noise, be it music or laughter or so many voices
it's a triumph and a rejoice in the key of F and C and B and G

or it's that hiss of steaks on a grill or the sciff of a scoop through a tub of mint chocolate chip
the edible noises that comprise more than one sense at a time.

but who knew a rush on a small hand-held device could be such music
such a symphony that culminates in fierce love for something yet unseen?

because a fourteen-week heartbeat proves life when there already was.
and worry breathes a final breath when something concrete is held in the ear.

my frame was not hidden from You when I was made in the secret place, when i was woven together in the depths of the earth. 
Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be. 
::psalm 139:15-16::
i feel like i am part of something sacred, something precious. and i'm overjoyed with this preciousness that is the soft rushing of my unborn one's heartbeat. 

it has sealed something on my soul, something magnificent. 

i am mother, and i have been for some time. but now i understand and i feel it deep in my core, where i am treasuring these things in the darkness. 

so i whisper through my tears of overflowing joy to the small one moving, unfelt but dancing beneath my skin, just as my Father has whispered to me. 

courage, dearheart.
for He has overcome the world. 

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

steak and potatoes

{via pinterest}
i spent last night with my parents. 

not the whole night, but enough of the night to have steak and potatoes and chocolate ice cream, and laugh until we wept with too much joy overflowing from the corners of our eyes. 

and then i leaned against the counter and talked to my mom. 

and we talked about the baby, and about everything else that comes in between. and we talked about life, like we haven't done in what feels like ages. life has been rushing and i feel like my family connections have gotten a little threadbare since the beginning of two dark purple lines. 

but we're all doing a show together this spring. mom and dad and me and baby too, all on stage together for the first time since i was thirteen. and connections form with theater lights and velvet curtains, just like they used to do when i was a child and i had my first tied pair of ballet ribbons draped over my arm. 

did you know steak and potatoes and chocolate ice cream and so much laughter could do so much? 

i think i'd forgotten. because i think i've allowed myself to retreat, to dwell too much and live too little. to wrap too many shaking fingers around fears and cling just that bit too tight. 

{via pinterest}
going home feels good sometimes. at the end of night, we got in our car and drove back to our little apartment with bills and laundry and pizza rolls in the freezer.

but going home feels good sometimes, to steak and potatoes and chocolate ice cream and the warmth of familiarity when things are too much to handle on our own. 

because two are better than one. and a bundle of sticks are better than two. and we're making our own stick bundle now, turning two to three, and five to six. 

well the sun is surely sinking down
but the moon is slowly rising
and this old world must still be spinning 'round
but I still love you
:: you can close your eyes :: brooke fraser ::

and so now i'm singing lullabies to the baby in my stomach, the same ones my mom sang to me when i was a little girl. and i'm repeating familiar melodies over and over again. 

cross shadows and repeated lines.

and steak and potatoes and chocolate ice cream. 

{thank you everyone for your patience with me as i figure out this pregnancy and my body's new way of life! giveaway winners from January are going up in a matter of minutes on the original post, and the new giveaway is up as of tomorrow morning!}