expecting // fear and light

there is a new rush of emotion in my life at present, of realizing that i am going to be the mother of a little one in less than twelve weeks now.

the reality that my little person is already starting to make her presence known on a regular basis, and the whimsy that tugs at my heart whenever i start to think about holding her in my arms.

{26 weeks and ever-growing)

and for a moment, i turned whimsical.

and then i froze in my tracks.

:: i'm going to be a mum ::

and the petrifying concept, which had been occurring to me in the beauty and delight of pregnancy, sank in with a sonic boom that shook my foundations and led me to weeping in the middle of the night.

am i ready for this?

my expectations have turned from whimsy to fear and back again.

they say that no one is ever ready for this, not really. that you can prepare all you want, and then still be entirely unprepared for all that comes alongside the birth of a tiny new person that has your husband's eyes and perhaps too much of your spirit.

i look at mothers who seem to have it all together, and i shake with the terror that i might not be as good as they are. that i could say the wrong thing, that i could do something that would cast splotches of indelible tar-like ink on this little girl's still-blank canvas.

is this something that comes with impending motherhood, along with the passion to clean everything in sight, and then to eat everything in sight, and then repeat both actions over again until house and fridge are both equally clean?

i wish i could wrap this up in a tidy little bow, express some truth that i am entirely confident that i've got this, that i can manage this and that my worry flitted away on the breeze.

but i can't do that. i don't think i will ever be able to do that, to cast aside every shred of fear that i have and just run away.

but i'm not doing this alone. there is a Rock that is greater than i, a song that is louder than my fears, and a Saviour who is holding my hand with the softest whispers

I am a Father.

you are a mother. 

i understand. 

and we will parent together, daughter. 

can i do this on my own? never.

but then, i'm never alone. 

i am co-parenting with the King of Kings. 

colour drops :: five minutes

{via pinterest}

five minutes

five minutes to write my heart without stopping, without editing, without over-analyzing every word. 

it's about being free here, about writing for love here, every Friday. 

******

half the time, i forget about colour. 

i focus on the black and white and loose the technicolor in the religious right and leave the relationship to fade from sight until we're back again to shades of grey.

it's the stand-up sit-down, learn the ABC of You and me and just forget the mystery that the Pharisees just couldn't grasp. 

but that night, it wasn't black and white, but RED with Life and GOLD with the broken heart of Soverign Father slashed across the sky in lightning slash. 

and those shades of grey died with Death in the space of three days when colour was risen from the ice-cold rock and Life burst forth into rainbow drops of GLORY and WHITE.

because it's important to pick up the crayons of childlike faith and streak the colour bold and wide from side to side and cover the page in infamy and reality of the truth that set us free in the space of three days with Red that turns us White again.

so we just have shut up, sit back, and let Him flip the mental switch to bright and drop the harshness and swallow down the mystery of the unseen and oh, glory be to the Painter of celebrates eternity. 

do we remember colour now? 

{linking five minutes of my day with Lisa-Jo}

unexpected

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking.  linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

UNEXPECTED

now GO...

i'm in a place that i never expected to be. 

i never thought it would take me this far into my Christian walk to start to embrace this thing of sacredness. 

as a little girl, i wanted to be a Christian because i loved Jesus and i wanted to belong to Him.

i didn't know or understand what i was doing until i got much older. 

i was embracing the unexpected by become His child. 

because who would have expected a King to put His crown on the floor and step from Royal to humble? from Eternal to Mortal...and yet still remain Eternal. 

who would have expected Sinless to become sin for the very ones who pushed His already-broken body against a splintered beam of wood and drove iron nails into his wrists and feet? 

He was nothing like what they expected. 

i'm awed as His ability to break those barriers -- not to destroy what was written, but to fulfill. 

this Rabbi of Peace -- fighting the ultimate war with Death. 

 so much victory. 

this is my unexpected, which has now become my understood. 

this has become my Embraced. 

remember

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. . linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

REMEMBER

now GO...

i saw this word last night. and i started to think what i should remember. 

because i remember a lot of things. not important things, like England king or the capital cities of every state in the Union. 

but i remember snapshots and mental videos of things that no one else does.

{photo by DramaticElegance
1997: haircut like Skandar Keynes}

family things, little quirks and things from the past. 

she does too. 

she was my companion in most, so we share this common memory.

you see, most of my memories involve two little girls. 

one with dark hair cut in a too-short bob because the little long-haired blonde one wanted to play beauty shoppe with Mummy's sissors. 

little red wagons and cats that lacked enthusiasm for being wrapped up like Baby Moses and being floated down the creek in a basket. 

lipsynching into hairbrushes in front of the video camera...it's on YouTube now, somehow. 

inside jokes that we still laugh about, because we remember, you see. 

on Tuesday night, we followed tradition. hanging lights and placing angels and snowmen in their traidtional places, like we do every first of the eleventh month. 

but this year, these two little girls are joined by two little boys. 

{photo by DramaticElegance
2009: my wedding, Bride and Maid-of-Honour}

these little girls have loves now. 

new memories now. 

these boys will both be here here for Christmas. 

one a husband who spends every waking minute with his woman...


...the other a solider home from war  for his first Christmas with her on this side of the webcam. 

we grew up somehow, these two little girls. 

but in the dark under the Christmas tree, we still tangle our fingers and curl like hedgehogs into a little bundle together. 

because we remember. 

relevant

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

RELEVANT

now GO...

i crave relevance. i ache to have a place of here and now in this world. where my past has blended into shadow and is no longer haunting my every step with its pack of has-been lies. 

i tend to place relevant and authentic on the same level. because how can we stand in a place of relevance to the world if we are not being authentic with Truth and Light? 

relevant means pertinent, connected to the matter at hand. 

authentic means real, not falsified. 

so you see how they must go together?

so many of my precious blogger friends are doing just that this weekend. they are wrapped up together in a place of relevant, authentic love and community. 


this place of sharing and precious connection where only computer screens had joined before. 

and i won't lie in that i envy them this. i wish i could be there with them, finding my corner of community with this thing that can feel so aloof at times. 

but i know i am here in my relevant place, where i need to be for such a time as this.

maybe someday, in another year, i will join them in their place. 

 i am not with this community now, but i am here. 

still authentic, still honest, still raw, and still craving this touch of relevance. 

beyond

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

BEYOND

now GO...

i love this word. 

this idea of going beyond...

...beyond what is normal, what is accepted, and what everyone says should be.

perhaps it is the seeker in me, the little girl with TOMs and searching eyes barely hidden beyond choppy bangs that may have never grown up. 

she's still here. just six years older and a little wiser, or maybe not. 

i'm still aching for the beyond. still digging through fur coats to find the snow at the back of the wardrobe. i'm not about to stop that search, and it's about more than a magical land.

it's about the beyond. the more. the bit of unseen that i know is there, fingers out and reaching at the beams of hidden light. 

i want to go beyond this world. beyond this place of feeble and insignificant. because anything can be made beyond. because we were made for greater things.

{via pinterest}

if i find in myself desires that nothing in this world can satisfy, i can then only conclude that i was not made for here. 

i am not of here. i am of the beyond.

i am a citizen of the land of Love and Salvation and Light. 

i am a daughter of the soon. 

tired of this glass dimly, aching for the fresh eyes of Heaven-sight.

i want to catch that White Stag, find that hidden door, step past the train platform of Shadowlands and come into the brightness of this ended dream.

of this morning beyond. 

i'm ecstatic with the knowing that beyond is here. and i can touch it.

i am living in the now, living in the soon, living endlessly in the beyond. 

i don't have to come back to reality

because i'm already there. 

He promised, and i believe.

beyond is soon. 

beyond is here. 

catch

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

CATCH

now GO...

there is something so amazing about spending a week with a bride in preparation. most people don't get to see this part. this is precious between just a sacred few. 

because we get to see it all. the anticipation, the waiting for her groom to arrive. ten hours away no more. he will be here, and someday is only two days away from being forever. 

but there is the other stuff too. 

the stuff scattered around the room, suitcases open and tousled, things strewn helter-skelter. because she's preparing in this week. 

it's more than just tulle and ribbon and last-minute shopping runs and hot glue and sewing kits. 

it's a change of life. 

she knows that soon, she will have a human parachute. 

it's a drop and catch type of affair. 

she's dropping one name, and catching another. 

she's dropping the old life, the old home, the old surroundings

and catching the new. 


the new existance with the man she has loved for so long without even realizing he was the one she loved. 

this is a strange kind of balance. this thing of drop and catch.

but the dropping is slowly coming to the end. 

the end is in sight. 

and the catch. 

that beautiful soft catch. 

of sand and beaches and sunrises and tearful i do's. 

of money and children and grey-haired futures.

welcome to the catch, love. 


{please forgive my lack of commenting, loves. when my dear one is married, expect a return from me
also, would you please leave Alex a word of love? two more days before she is a wife.}

ordinary

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

ORDINARY

now GO...

this ordinary has been forgotten.

we forget those little bits of life that are so important...

the most important. 

we seek glitter and glitz and so much different that we forget to see those things that are right in front of us. those bits of inspiration that are daily lost in this shuffle of seeking extraordinary.

yes, forever should we strive to be living lives that are beyond the pale, strong and rich for Him. 

but even this is ordinary.

we follow a King who cast His crown away. living among the dust and dirt and death and sin and pain of this world. 

{via pinterest}

He who knew no sin...

...covered in this world's dust. with feet that needed washing, and yet He knelt and washed that of others. 

He was most extraordinary of the ordinary. this Man of sorrows, this King of Life. 

and we must not forget this place we hold in this world of shadow and strangeness. 

find the beam of light in the darkness. 

that one pebble along the beach.

that one moment in the passing of eternal time. 

this beauty in the plain. 

this is ordinary. 

this pursuit of the extraordinary. 

amigos

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

FRIENDS

now GO...

i wonder where i'd be without them. 

these people who have radically transformed. touched. caressed and pushed and held and gripped my wrist so tight as i slip beneath the surface and pulled me up again.

man was not meant to be alone.

each one of us has the one partner with whom we are meant to spend our lives. 


and i have found my precious true Love and life companion, and my life would not be the same without him to hold my heart. my true best friend is him, indeed. 

but there are those others. 

those other lifeguards that watch your shore, those other hands to hold as roads are raced, those other heads of hair to blow in the wind from rolled-down car windows as music flows through each strand. 

so much shouting. laughter. wisdom. precious ones. 

{via pinterest}

{those tissue bearers. those shoulder-lifters. 

those warm blankets for a wounded soul, those comforting wraps for laughter at the fireside. 


those sisters. those brothers. 


those dearhears that can look back at the page and say, 

yes, we were there. but we overcame. and we sang and laughed and wept and danced and leaped for the pureness of it all. 

together. 

companions. 

my precious ones. 

my sister. my Abby. 

my soul sister. my Alex.

my tender mother. my sweet mother-in-law. 

my loyal father. 

my brothers. my sisters. 

lists too long to name. but i love you. 

my team. 

champions all.

survivors all. 

His all. 

{the fantasy giveaway ends TONIGHT! be sure to enter here before midnight tonight}

growing

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

GROWING

now GO...

how fitting that this would come today.

today i am 21. 


as of my waking, i am another year old.


it feels like the strangest of emotions all wrapped up into a simple time frame of 24 hours. 

but today this step has been made, whether i wanted it to come or not.

i'm in the eternal process of aging. but what about growing?

am i growing? i suppose it depends on what you mean by growing. i stopped physically growing at the age of 14 and have not risen an inch in height since then.

i suppose that makes me feel small. 

no, not suppose. it does.

honestly, it's hard to feel super confidence at a minuscule 5'0. 

{photo by PinkStudios Photography}

but that's not what matters, is it?

it's not the height or weight or eye colour or the consistency of my hair that makes me grow.

it's this heart of mine. this soul that aches and craves and sings out the strangest of songs as i learn and figure things out for myself. 

i'm growing on my own. maybe it's the life circumstances which i have endured at a very young age. those things mature you, they say.

or maybe it's just the lifting of my King. the turning of His weights, gentle and tender, speaking

grow

to my little seedling heart. 

in Him, it's okay to still be growing. this tiny work in progress.

21 and still growing. 

joy

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

JOY

now GO...

this song. this woman.

both are precious. both are joy. 

they resonate with beautifulness and mercy and so much joy.

even in so much darkness or pain.

because this song is slow and rich, not the bubbly melody that we once leapt about to and sang in rapid-speed as children. 

but it is still joy.

because this post is written by a woman of all inspiration and glory. this dear one, beloved beyond this and that and all

currently making her graceful way Home. my heart is breaking at our loss, but rejoicing at her gain.

even in the tears

it is still joy. 

she is going home to Joy. her Joy, her Love, and her Lord. 

what greater joy is this. 

i think it comes from this place of realizing that joy is the bird that sings just before sunrise. still so dark, but this bird knows.

it knows what comes in time. it knows the Light. 

and Sara is that bird. this bird of joy flutters at her windowsill. and as it takes flight, Heaven-bound, it sings a glorious refrain.

death is swallowed up in Victory. oh death, where is your sting? oh grave, where is your triumph. 

Sara is flying home

on His wings of perfect joy. 

{dedicated with all the love in the world to Sara Frankl. her steps to joy have led me forward, along with so many others. she loved fast and deep and rich and hard. she loved her King. bless you as you take this path Home, sweet one. your King awaits you with a kiss for your cheek.}

real life

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

REAL LIFE.


now GO...

i'm on a Gilmore Girls obsession lately. 

i think it's because i've been dreaming on this concept of real life. once again, planned before i put fingers to keys. 

i sit and watch this show, mother and daughter with all this quirk and all this mischief

and all that reality that modern television likes to obsess upon in an awkward and overbearing way. 

real life is becoming something a bit too false.

reality television? all connections being over social networking and nothing face-to-face? chained to the desktop, unable to branch out and up and forward.

i love my blog. 

i love those dear brothers and sisters that i have added to my family through this simple typed medium. i love my facebook and twitter, two ways in which i can connect with those who have gone from home to uni in two steps without looking back. 

but i love my family doubly so.

my mother's tender hugs, 

my father's volumous laughter in my ear. 

food on my tongue when shared with my sister, 

coffee steam hot in my face at a social moment with a friend. 

tears in my eyes and love in my heart as we commune face-to-face.

this is real life. 

found online, found in the heart, found when joined heart-to-heart and then again. 

mix the two.

you'll find common ground.