jumble // tomorrow

{via pinterest}

i'm all over the place right now.

bag packed, clothing washed...did i remember everything? do i need one more blanket, another outfit, just in case? am i overplanning, under-doing?

i'm excited. i'm so, so excited.

but

oh Lord, i'm so scared. 

:: tomorrow is the day ::

i've been counting down for this day for 41 weeks and 3 days that have seemed to stretch endless in front of me. and now this is the end, no more waiting.

i'm being induced tomorrow, the stroke of noon is where this pumpkin starts to transform from me to Mommy. it could be hours, it could be days. i don't like this unknown where i sit right now, this not knowing.

but this i do know.
He is greater. He is in control.
He is God. i am not.

so pray for me, would you please? because i'm so very small, and this seems so very big. and i need peace to do this big thing, this foreign and beautiful and frightening thing.

i'm bringing life through blood. it's sacred, a reminder of Him, really. the Stone Table broke when blood was spilled, and my body might break in this pursuit of motherhood. i'm ready to be carried, lifted up and held.

tomorrow is begin.
tomorrow is the start.

and He is greater.

Nouveaux (Novel)

Books can be dangerous. The best ones should be labeled "This could change your life." ~Helen Exley

I spent a portion of my morning at the library.

This might be one of my favorite locations in the entire world.

Granted, I am a huge fan of expansive fields under perfect blue skies, the whisper of a breeze in my hair as I tuck myself under a tree with a brand-new paperback and a soft blanket.

However, if I had to remain indoors for any extensive period of time, I would rather it be lost among the melodious stacks of our anciently elegant library.

There is something hypnotic about this place.

Almost as if a portal to Narnia exists somewhere among the aromatic books, aching to be discovered by an attentive and observant seeker of knowledge and fantasy.

Today, my fingers reached out and darted from one spine to another...

...as if begging my sensitive fingertips to ascertain if the information to be found inside was worth the moments of my time to read.

And indeed, I found several such volumes...

... exquisite volumes flooded with such words as to intoxicate and overpower me with their beauty and worth.

I have met my match.

I have found my weakness.

Who would have imagined that the feeble scratchings of ink upon a bit of parchment would cause tears to spring to my eyes and my world to be changed forever?

The written word is my weakness.

Be gentle with me, oh poet.

Be cautious with my heart, oh composer...

...for you have woven a spell over me

from which I pray

to never

awaken.