mantra

{via pinterest}

there's something about the unknown, something deep that i cannot fully explain, even though i'd like to try. we've become a people set on the solving the unsolvable, unmasking the hidden, and insisting on the knowing and the knowing now. 

but there's a lot of power in these unknown things. and it's okay to exhale and whisper, 

i know naught, save Thee. 

there is so much power in the things that are yet hidden, those things too vast and too beautiful and too strange to comprehend. things He knows, and that i don't. because He is God, and i am not. 

and sometimes i don't know how i'll take one more breath, because life is hard sometimes and the dishes fill the sink and the tears fall to match the shower drops, invisible to all but the One who sees it all.

and there are times i find myself on my knees with the water raining down on my head and strands of hair falling on my face, and the ceramic is the only thing keeping me from falling down through the core of the Earth.

but getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way

to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of 

:: air ::

{sarah kay}

because He is One, and He is Three. and i am body that dies but soul that lives eternal. and i cling to the Rock that is higher than i, and i stand in the storm. 

i want to live from inhale to exhale, and then live again. i want to burn with the holy fire that never goes out, never falters, even in the rain. 

and i lift my hands and sing fire to the sunrise, the mantra of the warrioress that thuds beneath my skin as familiar as my heartbeat. 

i know naught, save Thee. 

{linking again, only redemption, with dear emily and her community of imperfect prose}

expectancy

{via pinterest}

i am learning about expectancy.
not the act itself, but rather the level i dare to have.

because i don't have nearly enough, because my Jesus meets His loves at the level of their expectancy. i didn't notice that my tank was brushing e, that i didn't have nearly the amount that He aches for me to have.

the man whose daughter slipped from Earth to death, he begged Him to come and heal, to come and raise. just come, don't linger, just come now.

:: and Jesus went, and raised :: 

the solider who took a knee on dirt path and stone and whispered, "i know the power, i know the authority of a word. speak here, and my servant is healed."

:: and Jesus spoke, there on the road, and healed ::

the woman who bled, and reached out two trembling fingers just to brush against the hem of filthy fabric that composed the Saviour's robe. "if only i can touch, i will be healed."

and Jesus whispered in the pulsing crowd of a thousand fingers, 

:: "who touched Me? power went from Me, and I felt it go." ::

and i do not have her level of expectancy. i do not hold enough. i am the needy child who tugs His arm again and again and cries, "come now, Daddy...can You fix it?"

{via pinterest}

i don't expect enough from Him. i whisper "maybe You can...can You?" i should reach out with two tiny fingers and touch, and know. all i have to do is touch, and He will give.

and so i let the branches of self-doubt and human reasoning twist so that no more hope can seep out. it's just too risky, you see, to expect so much. too much gets lost, too much me gets forgotten, i think.

but oh, and then i realize that light is unconstrained, or else it is darkness. and expectation becomes the knowing, the watching and waiting not with maybe but with will come.

and i let my dreaded soul open, and run, and wail joy and knowing to the skies.

i'm kneeling in the dirt here, barefoot and broken. i'm reaching out for the hem of His robe.

and i know.

finding the new {236-242}

i am barely here this morning. my precious notes of jubilation still remain, but they are clouded with exhaustion and a twisting, churning stomach that has yet to abate since close to 8:30 last night.

i knew this would be a side effect. it's the one everyone whispers about behind closed doors, the one they all ask me about, and the one i thought i was escaping.

but curled up in armchairs clutching a ceramic bowl before rushing to another wider bowl in another room...this has been my sleeping and my waking.

and my stomach is slowly fading in its clenching as sparkling water with hints of peaches and a lot of slow-moving rest are finally beginning to do their job.

i feel my blessings slowly changing in their style, but never fading in their sacred glory.

• 236. ginger ale and sparkling peach water

• 237. laundry already started and the strength to finish the chore

• 238. salsa chicken in the crockpot, one of the few things that appeal to my lurching tummy

• 239. the peace of resting soundly when sleep finally came

• 240. comfort in disappointment, rest in knowing that plans are held in a Lion's paw

• 241. encouraging notes from dear sisters and friends, knowing that other women have walked this road before, and have made their own paths of strength

• 242. being reminded that i am brave and warrioress even in the oddest of ways.

and so i'm resting now. 

i'm breathing slowly and feeling myself settle deeper into the comfort of warm quilts and steaming cups of tea. this cold winter does not touch me here, for i am warm and safe and healing deep within. 

blessings rise here. pregnant and barefoot in the sacred. 

blessing overwhelming {228-235}

{via pinterest}

this month is half over already. and it's overwhelmed with blessings

i started this month with a whisper of a word, spoken to the night like a pleading, a promise. brave.

and then the world started tangling and twisting, so many things changed in the space of sixteen short days. and fingers fumbled with slender packages and whispered words of new life discovered as i leaned against a cold steel wall. 

and my blessings continued to grow, even as my mind churned in wonder and i felt myself changing from the inside out. it's the strangest, the deepest growing that i have ever experienced.

this -- these months counting down on infant fingers and toes...this is my most breathtaking brush with sacredness yet. 

• 228. two dark purple lines that change a life forever

• 229. rest from weariness, peace in confusion

• 230. brand-new grandparents, eyes illuminated with the excitement of new life

• 231. fresh grapefruit and woven wheat crackers. 

• 232. the connecting fingers of sisters and friends, the ones that care and the ones that cradle

• 233. a husband rejoicing, a family celebrating. 

• 234. learning to change my body's position in sleep and in life, moving my feet in step with the dance of mother instead of me

• 235. now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us. {eph. 3:20}

and so i'm continuing to find the beauty in the seemingly ordinary. those things that are perhaps forgotten, perhaps misunderstood. these are the things i'm learning to love. 

i'm getting a stronger grasp on the important, seeking the sacred in the foggy mirrors and the crumpled scraps of paper. 

:: becoming mother ::

:: becoming warioress ::

:: becoming seeker ::

becoming braver and braver, day by day. 

awaking mother

{via pinterest}

{five minutes. refusing to over-think or over-complicate. in these moments, we write for love}


when i went to bed on Wednesday night, i was a me. single tense, just one body.

or was i really? 

because this little one was already growing within, without me even knowing that i wasn't just a me. but a we.

but this morning, i awoke. and it was different.

because i was mother. i could feel the change. maybe not physically yet, maybe it's too soon. but i found my fingers pressed against skin, whispering good morning to the lentil in my tummy.

because i awoke new today. 

no more will Friday the 13th speak of bad luck. it will be the first full day that i knew i was mother. 


today was the day my mother hugged both me and her grandchild at the same time. the first day that i wandered through my home with Harry Potter in hand as i read familiar words to the tiny one who can already hear me.

i awoke different today, though i have been doing it for six weeks without realizing.

today, i knew. and i awoke mother.

{thank you so much to each and every one of you who wished us well. we are so incredibly excited. 

we are due on September 3rd, 2012. expect lots and lots of updates as the weeks progress!}

droplets :: rain

{via pinterest}

i love the rain.

some find it gloomy, overbearing. almost depressing when the sun is blotted out with grey and fog, when water pours like tears from Heaven's eyes and there is nothing bright anymore.

but in my experience, tears heal.

and the rain cleanses.

there is no sun seen, but it's still there. it's just waiting for the healing.

driving in the rain is complicated. the roads are slick and damp, and there are puddles that gather in the low points that lead to a skid or a tidal-wave splash. but it convicts me, too, when i drive while the water pours from sky to ground.

but there's that blur when the water patterns the windshield and for that moment, you can't see the road. and then the wipers glide over the glass and all is clear again.

and that's the way it should be. the tears come and for a moment, all seems blurred and unsure. and then the fingers brush the tears aside. the bottle in Heaven fills with a few more drops, and peace descends.

{via pinterest}

You have taken account of my wanderings

put my tears in Your bottle. 

are they not in Your book?

{psalm 56:8}

these are not just our sorrows, i think. He keeps our joys in this bottle, too. and i think one day that He will take me into this room, this place where this bottle is stored.

and He and i will talk, and He will take this bottle off the shelf. and He will pour them into His palm where my name is written and smile.

i keep Your tears

of sorrow and joy and Light and pain and beauty and confusion

so that You could see

that I am greater

and I love you. 

so this is why i love the rain. the knowing that while it is unsure, there is beauty. and while the joys overflow into water down my cheeks, or the pain trickles down in the only release i can understand

i can stand. secure and dry in the Light of the Son. 

morning :: finding Light {200-206}

i'm not a morning person. not by a long shot.

maybe this is a negative aspect of my life. perhaps i should enjoy rising before the birds begin to twitter or the sun paints the world gold and pink and pale shades of blue. but i don't, honestly.

but these past several Mondays have been mornings of rising at half past five and stepping down from warm bed to pre-dawn chill to meet the Chicago rush of commuter traffic. i'm having to learn to change my views on life, on mornings.

it's not something i enjoy, but it's something i'm embracing. and isn't that what eucharisteo is about, this thing of grasping the mystery and soaking in the unknown? even this time of year, these moments of Christmas celebration with the green and red and flickering candlelight

isn't this all about surrendering? 

about following and stepping from comfort zone to holy ground? 

and so even among the commutes and the too-much noise so early, i continue to count one by one by one.

• 200. peppermint hot chocolate 

• 201. the blend of sacred and Earthy found in this month. the way He paints my path with gold and dust and speaks "know Me here by this name, dearheart."

• 202. a father's laughter and stimulating debate as we drive too-busy roads and play the music just a little too loud

• 203. love found in the tiny wife guiding her tall, blind husband to his seat and the tenderest caresses when only touch communicates her face. 

• 204. children's innocence with their off-beat clapping and their misstep dancing and the way they speak of "gold, Frankenstein, and myrrh" before giggling with blue eyes dancing. 

• 205. feeling my characters become real, taking flight under my fingertips as paper becomes blood and ink becomes breath. it's intoxicating. 

• 206. finding Sarah Kay again and finding my spoken word again. it's strange and raw and so frightening. i could not love it more. 

and so amid the bustle of the Japanese sisters sharing coffee and too-loud laughter, and the Italian cluster of gentlemen arguing with hand gestures and rapid tongues in a language i wish i knew, we're conversing.

He and i. 

we have our silence in the noise, the moments i can feel the silence. it's a kiss, an embrace.

it's the ending dream, and the touch of morning.

{linking the count of gratitude with Ann}

{a} {b} {c} beyond

{via pinterest}

this thing of Thanksgiving overwhelms me.

this one day in the midst of 365 to sit back and reflect on blessings, surrounded by those whom we love and whom we love to aggravate.

as i said in yesterday's post, today may be Thanksgiving. but so was yesterday, and tomorrow will be again.

even still

my soul loves this day.

and so i will be joining with rachel today to list my gratitude from a to z and all the moments in between.

afternoon walks // best friends  // candles in white jasmine

dates with my Daddy // eggshell white // family {cliche but so true}

grass between my toes // Him // inspiration

 jazz music // kisses and caresses // last rays of evening's sun 

moments shared with my mother // new books // opportunities to breathe again 

 peppermint hot chocolate // quirks // resolve 

secret laughter with my sister // the man i love // umbrellas when the sun shines

victory in Jesus // winter's first snow // eXtra minutes in the shower 

You // zoos {they're my favourite}

writing this list alone was worship for me. 

i'm undone by Him. this incredible life i have, the people that fill my hours, and the overwhelming realization that i am the furthest thing from destitute. 

it's precious, this thing of dwelling in His shadow. my gratitude is endless.

is yours?

happy Thanksgiving and endless blessings from DramaticElegance 

{linking with rachel and so many others in these 26 glimpses of gratitude}

in the soothing {176-182}

{via pinterest}

sometimes, Monday is a rut. the start of a week that can only get better from a day that makes you fall to your knees and wonder why.

but then there are Mondays that remind me of the grace of God. the way in which He shines a light that cuts through the darkness.

 even on days when i'm exceptionally irritable, feeling like everything is rubbing me the wrong way, i find myself drawn to sparks of blessing.

God's fingers touching my soul, murmuring 

be still and know, dearheart.

• 176. Breaking Dawn with a girlfriend whom has been far away for months. 

• 177. laughter so hard that it comes out silent, aching sides and streaming eyes over coffee and cinnamon bagels

• 178. newborn puppy whimpers and loving mama kisses as she looks over her ever-growing brood.

• 179. cell phone GPSes that save from late-night losses on country backroads

• 180. steaming coffee and vanilla creamer, late night companions to my slowly growing word count

• 181. emails from publishing companies, affirmation that my work is "good enough." dreams fulfilled with a few simple keystrokes. "we're interested in Cut Loose..."

• 182. messages from my sweet friend Jen, knowing that simple words of mine were used of Him to confirm a heart's yearning.

it's hard to not become overwhelmed in a world of declining Mondays. it's hard to look ahead and see a bright Light instead of a train coming to plough me down. 

but there comes my list, slipping into my corner. 

and i am cheered on this path. these little moments of soothing when the world rubs me wrong.

my soul brushes of being still, and of knowing.

{linking my blessings with these beautiful ones of blessing}

abounding {129-141}

{your first sneak-peak at the wedding photos}

on this morning, my cup overflows.

i cannot even begin to express the condition of my heart as the Floridian sun caressed my cheek this morning, reminding me that my time to return has come.

i don't want to leave this place.

this place of love and connection and some of the most precious people that dwell in this world.

and even in the midst of all the stress and rushing that has flooded my path this week,

the blessings have been innumerable.

• 129. ocean breezes and the crash of waves

• 130. the sight of a fresh and pure bride stepping down the sand toward a glowing groom with handkerchief blindfolded, awaiting her touch on his shoulder, to turn and to see her for the first time.

• 131. the tears on a mother's face as her daughter steps from child to woman

• 132. laughter.

• 133. swing dancing in the ocean waves as waves soak our skirts and the sunset kisses our lips and eyes. 

• 134. secret smiles and inside jokes

• 135. the reassuring and loving caress of a woman whom i call Mama

• 136. my best friend, now a wife, as she sobs into my shoulder with so many smiles. this day was perfect for us both.

• 136. love. the love of family. of friends. of man and wife. of 35 people gathered together. it was overwhelming. 

• 137. the ordaining hand of God, bringing each moment together in the most perfect of ways.

• 138. His provision. His promises are sure. 

• 139. aching sides and streaming eyes as laughter echos from the bridal party's throats among the sandy dunes

• 140. returning home when the time is right.

• 141. knowing that i am loved, knowing that i am wanted and treasured. 

my list is endless this morning. i could write for hours. His grace is so much sufficiency for me

and so i board a plane and journey home. and i will weep as i kiss my second family goodbye. 

but for everything there is a season. a time to come, and a time to go.

and this has been my time

 of blessings never ending.

{linking as always with Ann this morning. this blessings are growing greater}

sparks {102-117}

today is cold. wet. rainy. so grey and oppressive.

the kind of day that makes you want to curl up and just shut the world out. no more noise or cold or wind and rain.

nothing good. only the dark.

but i find this crackling hearth in my soul. and i sit beside the soul-glow and find the warm from blessing upon blessing.

• 102. cableknit sweaters and knitted scarves

• 103. letters from friends. hand-penned words in lavender pencil, even from growth comes love. 

• 104. acoustic guitars 

• 105. three amazing performances of OZ! 

• 106. friendship

• 107. birthdays. 21 years of light. 

• 108. peace. the chance to slow. to rest. to be still.

• 109. hot chocolate

• 110. Ravenclaw. 

• 111. discovering i am more than i can see, worth more than i might think. 

• 112. Him. what greater blessing is there than my King? 

• 113. warmth.  
• 114. touch. 

• 115. surrender. 

• 116. family. 

• 117. light. 

again, small things. 

my little things.

but on these days of darkness, of grey, of cold and damp

these are my sparks. 

my flames to melt the ice.

sacred becomes you

people leave footprints. even if it's only unintentional marks on the world, they still manage to dot the world with their own mark.

good or bad.

some people carry sacred with them wherever they go.

they just live like Christ.

these people are

rare. 

beautiful. 

gifts. 

these dear souls leave me deeply nourished in beautifully unique ways. they lift my spirits, make me laugh or reflect; they weep when i weep and offer a soft place to rest. they keep dreams alive and are the ones I return to again, and again, and again.

You are one I return to because 
you live such truth and grace. 

You embody wisdom hard-earned along the curves of life; 

you emerge from darkness bearing life and light. 

You, warrioress you, inspire others to not only survive, 

but to live gratefully, tenderly, thoughtfully, and well.

You live your sacred, 

and it becomes you.

i was granted this blessing by my beautiful and inspiring rain, the creator of this gift. 

the sacred becomes you award.

and now i, in turn, want to grace the souls of those who have graced mine. 

i have carefully chosen the following amazing women to receive the Sacred Becomes You award:

• Heather at Raining Silence. oh, my beautiful sister. every time I find myself at your corner, i am refreshed. it is as if you are watering my parched soul with your simple observations and acute. you are a flower in this desert of cacti.  never cease your growth. never cease to find your voice. 

• Charla Beth at Heart Like Mine. you are a gem. a jewel. i am so blessed each time your posts appear. i cannot stop smiling and weeping all at once when i read your words. you bare your soul to us all, and for this, you are a heroine among women. 

• Grace at Puddles of Memories. your strength is legendary. you are honest, in richness of pain that i cannot even begin to wrap my mind around. you are unafraid to let the world know you struggle, you ache, and you fight your way to life each morning. you rely on nothing but your King. never stop breathing this love. 

• Emily at imperfect prose. you taught me to let go. you taught me to write like i had no audience but my Jesus. you showed me that it was okay to let go of perfection, of capital letters, of fears of what the world might say or think of me. you are a child of paint and love and salvation uninhibited. never cease these blessings to us all. 

• Rain at the sacred life. you are a white rock in this pit of blackness. you face this world with pen and ink, with strength and tears, and with more love than most carry in their little finger. you inspire and encourage and overwhelm with more love than i could ever pray to possess. bless you for your love. for your faith in the One who supersedes all.

Rules:
Actually, there aren't many. This is an award designed to honor the recipient without obligation. However, if you choose to pass it on, please consider the following guidelines:

1) Always link back to the one who awarded you and share what this award means to you.
2) Choose your recipients (as few or as many as you like!) and write something about how they have touched your life.
3) Include the award! 

restoration. {51-60}

It's back again.


Monday, that is...although this morning has been so beautiful and peaceful that I think that "Monday" may have decided to wait another day to appear, and that I have instead reawakened on Sunday.


There is something so beautifully peaceful about this morning. It's a reminder to me as to why I don't write these posts on Sunday nights and schedule them to post the next day.


True, one of those reasons is because I have yet to figure out the whole concept of successfully scheduling my posts. But the other is because of the powerful beauty in awakening to a morning of twittering birds and cool almost-autumnal breezes.

• 51. An almost perfect week of OZ! rehearsals. I may have just set a theatrical jinx upon myself, but these past three practices have flowed like a summertime stream, and we are actually currently ahead. Lord, let this endure.

• 52. The sweet pain of correction, and knowing that I have a dear one in my life with the courage to pull me aside and speak words of change into my heart. "You have to let go, or else you will be consumed...you are beautiful and undeniably precious...you are not an untouchable."

• 53. Food. A simple blessing, you may think. But to me, this is a gift worthy of mentioning. Food is becoming an art to me...the complex combination of flavour and presentation, tugging on all five senses with sensory fingers of delight. Is this bringing me back to the days when I wanted to make my life out of edibles and create culinary masterpieces for a profession. A dream rekindled, perhaps?

• 54. A young teenager who holds the door for me, sincerely and without parental pressure. Chivalry is not so dead as we once feared.

• 55. |An afternoon of laughter with my husband, my father, and my visiting grandmother whom I have not seen since last spring. Sharing stories of my father's childhood adventures over plates of stunning food...laughing until we couldn't stop with tears pouring down our faces. 

• 56. Our church. This place has touched the face of God. 18 months ago, we followed the call of God and took our seats in this place for the first time. May we never look back.

• 57. Curling into a pair of strong arms, feeling so secure and calmed by the touch of my dearest Love. Kisses on my forehead and nightly reminders that I am treasured, that I now walk this road as two instead of one, that I have a witness in this life. In case you wondered, I believe in soulmates. And I have truly found mine. 

• 58. Hearing my sister's voice, from Italy to America via technology. How I miss her and my mother both. One more week without them, and then...the most beautiful of homecomings. 

• 59. Wrestling with God, and being undone by His mercy. 

• 60. Finding myself again. This broken vessel has a use in His hand. I can be fixed. I am not forever destroyed.

These are my blessings. Some fleeting, to be sure. 

But most? How they will endure until the end of time and beyond.


The inspiration overwhelms me on mornings such as this one. The voice of my God is an echoing whisper in my soul, forever reminding and forever loving.

My cup runneth over. 


We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed...for our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. ~2 Corinthians 4:8-9, 17-18

Linking with Ann, as I have done every Monday since July.
However, I have just now found the graphic.
Nine days left to enter into my August giveaway. 

Musing {24-32}

A man is not idle because he is absorbed in thought.  There is a visible labor and there is an invisible labor  ~Victor Hugo

The beginning of another week has arrived. And with it, the start of a fresh page on the calender. It is so very strange for me to realize that we are already in the eighth month of 2011.

The way time passes is, in itself, a blessing for me. No matter what happens, I always know that the sun will set and rise again on a new day. Time is a constant, regardless of what I do or what decisions I make in each day.

But as always, this past week has overflowed with so many beauties that I can hardly bare to see this week come to an end. It was another watercolour week...one blessing after another, blending together to paint the most stunning portrait...another adornment on the wall of my life.

• 24. The official beginning of OZ!...a tumultuous read-through crammed with details and information, bursting with whispers of the next two dramatically theatrical months to come. 

• 25. A surprise package bursting with a six-page epistle and a beautifully scented patched of knitty goodness from the heart of a precious friend...one of those reminders that I'm not alone, and I am loved.

• 26. Three nights, interspersed throughout the week, but three nights of sleep all nightmare-free. There is such beauty in rest, such a deep sense of peace found when one lays herself down into the hands of the King, trusting on Him to bear all the restlessness.   

• 27. The start of a new Inspired Monthly Giveaway...another chance to lose oneself in whimsy and beautiful things, immersed in stunning talent from the workbenches of others. 

• 28. Hearing a Word, straight from the heart of the King of the world...the sweetest balm for my soul..."See, I am doing a new thing. Now it is springing up; can you not perceive it?I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." (Isaiah 43:19)

• 29. Rediscovering my seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer after almost a year-long lack of viewing. Sometimes, dusting off old fictional friends is a sweet reminder of days gone by and dreams once imagined. 

• 30. Brand-new brown and teal swirled dayplanners, lemon drop fudge with a sprinkling of sugar, and neatly organized theater schedules. 

• 31. Laughter. 

• 32. My niece resting her head on my shoulder, tucking her thumb contentedly in her mouth, and clinging to me with a little sigh of infant sleepiness...gazing over my shoulder at the world of cardboard boxes. 

Each time a new month starts, I cannot help but wish to look ahead, to see what might be in store for me in the coming thirty-one days of life. To start August off in such a way...to be surrounded with so many blessings...I can wish for no better way to begin a month. 

As my list of blessings grows longer, I am reminded of what a beautiful thing this life is...what a beautiful place this world is...and oh, what an even more splendid Home awaits me in days to come. 

This is a watercolour list...

...in my watercolour world. 

It is a good idea to be alone in a garden at dawn or dark so that all its shy presence may haunt you and possess you in a reverie of suspended thought.  ~James Douglas


(For this post, I'm linking up with Carissa at lowercase letters.) 

Le Chocolat

My rock candy passion is bittersweet / And armed to the teeth / Cuz she would rather fall in chocolate / Than fall in love / Especially with me ~Owl City, The Yacht Club

I love chocolate.

Again with the trite statements. I feel as though every chocolate product in the world has just cringed at the disservice those words have done to them.

Chocolate may be one of the most genius culinary inventions in the known world.

There is something so wonderfully smooth, delicate, and rich about the flavour...the texture...the memories and delight that even the word "chocolate" concocts in the human brain.

No wonder it is said to bring up fancies of love and affection...no wonder men use these delicate morsels to conjure pictures of romance.

Indeed, it is romance in edible form.

After I learned last night that I was the winner of a four-pack pound of eccentric and deliciously quirky fudge from Jewel of the Lion, courtesy of the beautiful Lucia at From Under my Little Umbrella...

...I began to contemplate upon the subject of this tasty delight.

I have decided that I want to be like chocolate.

In it's barest form...in the bean pod from which it is created...chocolate is one of the most undesirable flavours in this world. It is bitter, harsh and sharp against the palate, and not at all something one would want to put even remotely near their lips.

And in my barest form...oh, how sharp and bitter I am. I know from past experience that I can indeed push people away from me because of my harshness.

I am not sweet or smooth. I am harsh and vile.

Photo: It's a Dream Sampler Pack (my winnings,

but not these flavours)

Courtesy of Jewel of the Lion

I am undesirable.

It takes work.

The heat of adversity.

Being willing to break down...to not be so hard and locked away in my own shell of bitterness...

...it takes pain and struggle.

But in the end, my King has transformed me.

From bitter to delicious.

He has made me precious. Well-received and beloved.

And with each passing day, I become sweeter.

Like chocolate.

I prefer to regard a dessert as I would imagine the perfect woman:  subtle, a little bittersweet, not blowsy and extrovert.  Delicately made up, not highly rouged.  Holding back, not exposing everything and, of course, with a flavor that lasts.  ~Graham Kerr

Blogginista

"A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely un-happen." ~Edward de Bono

I never set out to be a blogger.

Or maybe I did.

I'm still honestly not sure.

Like I've said in previous posts, this blog is actually the third in a string of online attempts to start some sort of place in which to ramble, think, and process my life...

...not counting my now ancient and long-untouched Xanga and Myspace pages...and yes, I did just date myself and make myself feel incredibly old for almost 21, but that's beside the point.

I never wanted to be one of those bloggers...those that penned their every waking movement and each step they took into an online play-by-play. The same goes for my Facebook...breakfast food choices or private boy-girl-best friend-off and on again drama are simply not topics for public display.

I was only going to post a few mental thoughts, maybe a paper napkin poem or two...maybe I'd post, maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I would share this place with my friends, or I might just keep it to myself forever.

...whoops.

I seem to have accidentally become a blogginista.

I have the sweetest and most precious of friends that I have never met, and yet seem to know me so well.

I have fallen prey to faithfully reading "famous blogs," such as Aspire, Of Horsefeathers, and (life is too short not to) wear red shoes, marveling at their following and longing to be like them one day.

I've started carrying my laptop everywhere, and caught myself overwhelmed with excitement..."I have to blog that!"

I've fallen in love with my corner of the internet.

I draw my heart on my sleeve, and write my dreams up and down my arms.

I'm not writing down every little moment.

But this dramatically elegant gypsy is making her own memories.

Keystroke by keystroke.

Post by post.

Minute by minute.


As I felt the even tide / Deep in my shallow dreams.  / And then, when the empress run aground,  / And my eyes turned blue and green, / I heard a gorgeous sound, / And that's when it became a dream, / When the sky fell in, / When the hurricanes came for me, / I could finally crash again, / And that's how I became the sea. ~Owl City, How I Became the Sea

Lundi (Monday)

I'll dissolve when the rain pours in / When the nightmares take me / I will scream with the howling wind / 'Cause it's a bitter world and I'd rather dream...Dizzy love turned a star lily pink / And hung above our lids too flushed to blink...I sang my princess fast asleep / 'Cause she was my dream come true...~Owl City, Lonely Lullaby

Once again, another Monday has come around the bend.

And once again, I feel blessed to have awoken this morning.

My decision to keep my Mondays positive (which can be read about more in this post) has been one of the more intriguing aspects of my week. All throughout the week, I've caught myself noting things that I could mention in regards to my "Monday morning blessings."

It's starting to make an impact on more than just the first day of the week.

The rest of my days are starting to catch up...

...for how can I be lost in my own despair when I am continually making note of those gifts which surround me each morning as I arise, and follow me through each movement of the earth around the sun?

• 8. Every single breath I take. (Yes, this one may seem to be rather cliche...however, with the occurances of this past week, particularly over the weekend...this is something for which I dare not fail to give thanks and count as a mighty blessing.)

• 9. Celebrating the end of an era with a small collection of my dearest and most nerdy of Harry Potter-head friends...and even making a few new ones as well...being able to weep openly in a room full of people who know exactly what I'm feeling, as they are all feeling it, as well

• 10. Having one dearest, loving companion in particular who poured themself out before our Father on my behalf...there is no greater honour, and no greater gift that I could receive than to be lifted to the Throne when I myself am too weak to stand.

• 11. The continual blessings I have received regarding July's Inspirational Giveaway, and all those giveaways that are yet to arrive in the coming months

• 12. Finding my missing silver Hedwig earring! Yes, perhaps this is a small thing, but I had been looking for this small treasure for quite some time, and it reappeared right next to my toe after almost two weeks of searching.

• 13. A book read so many times that the pages are worn, and the corners are dog-eared with love. 

• 14. Beautiful, odd, and melodramatic dreams of brilliant colours and unspoken wishes...filling my nighttime hours with sweetness instead of screams.

Yes, perhaps this is an odd collection of beauty.

But these are my blessings, and I will continue to count them until I run out...

...which I know will never occur.

 "When I'm worried / and I can't sleep / I count my blessings / instead of sheep / and I fall asleep / counting my blessings..." ~Irving Berlin, Count Your Blessings (White Christmas)

gifts {1-7}

I have learned to cease my despising of Mondays.

Yes, for the majority of the world (myself included), Mondays are the bane of our existence.

Back to work. Back to school. Back to the daily grind of all things "weekday"...the departure from the simple restfulness that is the weekend.

Monday's seem to capture all the unspoken troubles of weekends past, and transform them into some doubly horrific and unbearably stressful.

I understand this. I have lived through countless Mondays in my 20 years, and I know I have many more to come. In fact, I struggle with allowing myself to sink into depression at the state of the week, becoming overwhelmed with all I have faced, and that which I have yet to endure in the days ahead.

But I am changing my focus...redirecting my viewpoint from my weary feet and upwards toward the Cross.

So for me, and for this blog, Mondays will now be our time to remember....to enjoy...to take in the gifts that the King has brought upon us.

1,000 of them, to be exact. Perhaps only two or three, perhaps more than a dozen at a time. Each Monday, I will count my blessings...to one thousand and perhaps even beyond.

1. The lovely roll of thunder to which I awoke
2. The sweet familiar smell of my pillow beneath my head
3. Sweet puppy kisses on my toes, and golden eyes looking up at me with love as I write
4. The discovery of IZZE at a local convinience store, almost 60 miles closer than I thought
5. A loving text from someone I hold dear, reminding me once again that I am not alone, that I am not fighting this uphill battle alone
6. The stunning melody of instrumental piano on a friend's blog, which currently fills my ears as I compose this post. 
7. Awakening to read Isaiah 43:2-3, and inhaling the promise of my Savior's enduring love as thought it was the most perfect and delicate of perfumes. 

Mondays are full of all things beautiful, just as are the other days of the week. In fact, Monday is the ribbon on the package that is a new week. 

When the first rays of sun dawn on a Monday, it is the first tug of that parcel binding. When the thunder rolls, it is God tearing open the paper, revealing a new beginning, without a single mistake upon the page. 

This idea was inspired by the beautiful and delightfully outspoken Sarah and her lovely corner of the internet: Emerging Mummy...and what a thought it was. To reach beyond the veil and touch the face of God...to receive His love instead of casting down makeshift curses. 

And that is where I shall begin. Pen in hand, my Beloved King at my side, and new mercies as the dawn. 

I encourage each of you to do the same. There is no button for this challenge...no specific tag of any kind. But the prize? The prize is greater than any giveaway I could ever concoct. 

The prize is joy. Peace. Delight. Blessing. 

The chance to take a long, slow breath...if only for just this one moment. 

Happy Monday, my loves. 

This day is not a curse...

...it is a new beginning...

...the ultimate blessing. 

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.” ~Lamentations 2:22-24