the silent-growing green

today I cracked eggs into a bowl and blended them with milk and garlic powder and hand-cracked black pepper from my own little grinder. the jagged little lines on the edge of the broken eggshells are as tidy as I've been lately.

expected sharp edges.

today I climbed on my hands and knees under my art table set up kitty-corner from the washer and the drier and picked up little pieces of torn cloth and ripped paper and matchsticks and little boxes of laundry detergent. the mess is where I've been at lately.

it felt good to tidy it up.

:: ::

sometimes i think we get lost, as writers. we find a goal and pound toward it, head down and jaw set. at least, that's how it is for me.

and it's so easy to get lost in the words and the ever-rising word count and let my own story get lost completely in the haze. my fictional self is the kind that delves deeply into worlds made from scratch. and when I sink my fingers in, I let the story ooze all around and fill in all the spaces that aren't made from flesh and bone and blood and skin and family ties. that's how it works in my head.

other spaces become quieter. I used to think it was me dropping the ball, letting my blog fall slack. now I realize that it's an expectant hush.

a friend of mine asked the other day, is it okay if I still write books even if my blog has quieted down? the answers were resounding. do you. yes. oh yes. 

I wasn't the one that asked the original question. but I've been asking it for a long time. and I've been getting lost in this story of mine. I couldn't help but wonder, is this a bad thing? to turn my focus toward my book and my family and let my internet voice fade a little bit? 

there are writers that fill the internet, voice after voice after ringing chiming voice. they seem to be doing all the things, filling up pages upon pages of books and tending to their little wild ones and loving their spouses and writing blog posts on the regular.


but they aren't me, are they? and they aren't you.

:: ::

I talk about the wave a lot. that wave that separates Earth from Aslan's County, the one that crests and hides and then dips just enough for a sneak peak of what is to come. and sometimes I feel like I'm surfing that glorious wave. I can taste the salt.

I'm writing my book. still plodding on, adding pages and paragraphs, watching the word-count go up and feeling the excited prickle as things fall into place in the story that my dreams wove and my mind is baking from scratch like a new muffin recipe. I have no idea how it's going to turn out in the end. but I know that I can bake, and I know that it smells amazing.

so I'm on that wave. and yes, this place has fallen quiet, waiting in eagerness for the next wave to come. there are nights I sit in the darkness of my house at my desk with my candle flickering and the aroma of incense filling my nose as I compose just one more set of a thousand words. and I'm basking in the holy ground that is this particular kind of creation.

:: ::

today I went outside in my bare feet with grass between my toes to scrape away dead leaves and sticks and growing maple seed trees away from the roots of my hearty little rose bush.

it felt good to see the silent-growing green.

and that's where I'm at right now. I'm cresting a wave and catching just a glimpse of what lies on the other side. I'm feeling Holy Ground at my feet and my sides and my back. it's glorious, loves. and it's so frightening and so new and there are days when I cry a lot and swear that I cannot do this.

but then I get back up and I feel that salt water splash in my face. and I know. this is my place. this is my calling, where the God who sees me has shifted Heaven and Earth to place me. He shed precious crimson blood to dye a thread to hang in this window.

here is where I want you. 
come dwell here. come write here.
with Me. 

keep your eyes open for the silent-growing green.

magnolia roots ::

{via pinterest}

i drove in my car today with the windows down with the blossom breezes flooding my nose. and i inhaled and my heart whispered to my soul, this is my sea. because some people have seaside breezes with salt and adventure, while i have suburbia with its sidewalks and blooming magnolia trees.

and the cherry blossoms swayed in the breeze and murmured, remember what you have remembered. 

because i think a lot about the trees during the springtime when everything becomes new and green. and i think about Jesus and the blind man, and the spit made mud smeared on his eyes by the hands of the One that kissed the dirt to life in the first place.

what do you see?
i see men...they look like trees, walking about.

and maybe he was right on point with this strange metaphor. we are more than human, more than flesh and bone and sinew and blood. we have roots that sink down, down deep into the soil, reaching and winding together with all the others, and the Life that pours from one enters the other.

unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone. 

and alone is something that doesn't touch, an empty death of sorts, a vague immortality that leaves the seeker empty-handed and the warrior without a sword.

{via pinterest}

i'm all about seeking these days, becoming the one with the mud-smeared eyes, because i want to see what He sees and less of what i think i should be seeing. i want to see Truth, not some misshapen passed-around hat that reeks of foolishness and the sweat of too much doing and not enough peace be still.

and i'm tired of looking around to seeing one closed door after another while the least of these is standing in the middle of the street naked and alone. and so many offended cheeks are turned while the Son of the Most High weeps in harmony with the cries of His beautiful lonely ones.

and so i'm being a tree with magnolia flowers in my hair and reaching out my fingers to the ones with the words i can't even bring myself to type streaked in tears and blood on their faces. i'm reaching out my roots to touch a thousand faces and draw them in where peace abounds.

she was forgiven much
because she loved much.

{a beautiful sister is giving away a piece of her sea, of the mermaid she is within. you can find rain and her beautiful life-giving giveaway here.}

fall fresh on me // avocado

{via pinterest}

i've always been captivated by the inside. by the stuff that no one sees, the painting underneath the varnish that was forgotten for a hundred years until one brave chisel flaked away the dark to show the light.

and it's springtime, or almost, and i'm watching as life is fighting winter every minute and every second to find its way out of the ground and into the blue sky world out here.

i saw a little girl find a feather the other day, and she smiled and held it up, and the silken strands were still so strong despise the wind and rain and squashy mud all around. and my soul picked up the feather too and tucked it in my hair, the little girl in my heart throwing back long dark waves of hair and laughing to the sky

Spirit of the living God,
;; fall fresh on me

and i'm starting to find God in the little things again, the things i forgot. and i know i've written here a thousand times about the beautiful ones, the almost hidden ones in the Bible, the ones He noticed that were invisible to everyone else.

it's the slicing of the avocado, that thick black shell melting away under silver to reveal the green of nourishment and the thick pit that holds life at even its tiny tight-locked core. and it's marvelous how much life can be wrapped up in something so wrinkled and unappealing to the eye.

sometimes i feel the pain of that knife slicing so smooth through the vileness that has built up around the life potential He placed in my heart of hearts. and it hurts so that i falter and weep and beg

{via pinterest}

Spirit of the living God
:: fall fresh on me

and then the green is seen, and the life tucked away deep within comes to the surface and blooms rich like springtime with glory and life shining from every pore. oh, how i ache to be radiant, to cover my face with a veil for the Light bursting from me to every corner.

now i feel infant fingers pull at long waves of my raven-wing hair, and i bring down my own fingers on the soft ginger gosling down that clings to the head of my beautiful little one. i think of future days when i will brush her hair and tell her about feathers and grace and the Light of the Son.

but for now, she falls asleep on my shoulder and lets loose the sweetest of baby sighs, and i feel something stir deep inside my soul. it's that little girl, tucking the feather behind her ear. she sits beneath a tree with the soles of her feet pressed together and elbows on knees.

and she whispers soft like the newcoming springtime breezes

Spirit of the living God,
:: fall fresh on me

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. 

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

Primavera

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. ~Nadine Stair

I adore spring.

If I had my way, we would skip all other seasons and live in a perpetual state of freshly budding flowers and 75-degree days.

Spring is beauty personified. Everything is springing up from death into life.

It is nature's greatest art form...God's most precious masterpiece.

It is fresh strawberries and bare feet buried in soft grass.

It is gentle breezes and holding hands by the lake, wind-swept waves caressing over lover's toes.

Spring is strawberry lemonade and frozen treats, just enough to send a tiny shiver up my spine.

It's driving with the windows down and my sunglasses resting on the bridge of my nose, the A Fine Frenzy playing just loud enough to make me shout and the wind warm as it musses my hair.

It's as if God poured all of His love, elegance, and passion into this perfect season...three beautiful months of serenity, whispering rain, and teasing breezes.

This is the season of Holiness...the season where death's sting became a distant memory and its power was lost forever.

The season of blood, splintered wood, and iron nails.

The season of empty tombs and "He is not here, for He is risen."

Spring is the season of life. Renewal. Redemption. Resurrection. Restoration.

Spring is my bliss...

...and I can't wait to find it again.

And [the angel] said to them, "Do not be amazed; you are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who has been crucified He has risen; He is not here; behold, here is the place where they laid Him. ~Mark 16:6

Robin

Spring shows what God can do with a drab and dirty world. ~Virgil A. Kraft

I saw my first robin the other day.

I never knew something as small and simple as a red-breasted bird could give me such a rush of hope.

These recent days have truly been a dreadful tangle of cold winds, heavily falling rain, and dull grey skies...

...it almost seems as if spring is playing some silly little trick with my spring-fevered heart.

And then, I see some little sign that maybe things are almost done being so wet and forlorn.

...the pale green tip of a tulip leaf poking up in my grandmother's flower patch...

...the gentle, haunting coo of a mourning dove to wake me from my sleep each morning...

...the celestial romance in invisible pairing of Neptune and Venus in the early morning darkness...

...the bobbing of a robin's scarlet chest against the twists of brown, listless grass.

Spring is coming.

The air is changing, the world is turning.

The world is thawing.

I trust the robin's song.

Enchant

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome. ~Anne Bradstreet

Finally, winter is over.

I think.

I hope.

Personally, I'm a place where winter has officially started to wear down my inspiration.

But it's over.

Finally.

The snow is melted. The air is fresh with the scent of rich, damp soil and the electric aroma of thunderstorms.

Flowers are peaking their heads just a bit uncertainly out of the earth. The grass is turning from faded brown to the whispers of sweet green. The breeze has that elegant perfume of soft wind and cherry blossoms.

Love is everywhere. From couples holding hands and walking along the swollen stream banks to the sweetest whispers of "yes" as diamond rings glisten brand-new on slender fingers.

There is the harsh cover of grief swiftly renewed by the cry of resurrection -- from the harshness of the splintered cross to the flutter of angel's wings.

There is a strange magic in the springtime...some strange combination of love charms and rose-petaled incantations.

There is a reason that I am enchanted with this time of year.

There is an unspoken vow of love...of charm...of whispered secrets in the blossoms and unfurling leaves.

I'm ready to be inspired again.

I'm ready for the spring.

"For behold, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.

'The flowers have already appeared in the land; The time has arrived for pruning the vines, and the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land. 'The fig tree has ripened its figs, and the vines in blossom have given forth their fragrance. Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come along!" ~Song of Solomon 2:11-1