Friday, February 20, 2009

my times are in your hands...

But I trust in you, O LORD;
I say, "You are my God."
My times are in your hand.
Psalm 31:14-15a

When you’re waiting for something, hoping and trying to find your patience in certain promises…
When life seems to be getting more complicated and harder to discern…
When all the voices that surround you are giving you their best advice with best intentions…

I go back to this verse…
A reminder of everything important…
Everything vitally important for sanity and faithfulness

of wait and wonder

I have so many ideas running through my head. So many hopes and dreams.
Desires that i am blank as to how they will all come about.
Become flesh and bone-
Breathe life into words scribbled in a journal,
Sketches doodled on a page.
the match up to the pattern I am creating in my head
The outline of something even I do not know.
I rack my brain to create the bridge between present and future,
Thread the needle to bind them together
Stay awake far after sun has set and moon rises into a darker than usual sky.
I am stumped.
Now I wait. Wait for direction, guidance, a new idea.
I’m scared, but luckily am not alone in this process.
So we wait together…huddled to keep warm as winter giggles in our faces.
We wait and wonder

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Anais Nin
Anais Nin - by jess999 on Polyvore.com

the lost art of letter writing

This post has been swirling in my head for a while -
My list of 25 things reminded me that i still haven't written it -
A blend of my love for paper goods and my own handwriting...

It's called...

The Lost Art of Letter Writing.

I love the feel of my own handwriting.
The swoops and swirls
The way it changes with my mood
Like a mood ring

All caps for tension
Criptic cursive for romance
And my standard - a fluid mix of print and script - for all the normal
days that creep in, one after the other and make life feel like home.

I love the feeling of my favorite pen on unlined paper
Graph paper, drawing paper...thick and so full of space. openness.

I like pens- and only he knows where I keep a stash of my favorites.
Rashioning them one-by-one until the ink goes dry and I can
Sneak out another one to use until the ink fades to nothing.

I love the romance of the hand-written letter.
Picking out the perfect card
Making my own-
Or a stack of blank paper, torn from a notebook,
quickly scribbled to someone dearly loved.

Receiving is special.
But the writing is sublime.

I remember when I was in Africa. Alone and lonely.
I would spend the kids' naptimes writing long letters to friends and
family-
My self-medication to a trying time
It kept me connected, able to process my life when no one was around
for me to talk to.

I remember laying on my purple-quilted-laced-pillow-cased top bunk most
afternoons...
books surrounding me - my journal on my lap
and I would lay on my stomach and write epic letters of my days
to my parents. To my friends. To no one. To everyone.

That was always my favorite time of day. That hour or two of quiet
seclusion.
Spent, pen and paper, alone - trying to connect with the world,
Across seas and sky
Across continents
and miles and miles of loneliness.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

meme about me me


A meme is going around facebook that asks you to list 25 things about yourself…
I swore it off, until I enjoyed reading friend’s ones so much, it’s only fair that I did it too…
I just thought I’d post it here as well…

1. I told myself I wouldn’t do it…now I’m doing it…and kind of like it…is that self-centered?

2. I have a major obsession with pens, paper, stationery, journals, ect... When I worked at anthropologie I always stocked up on pretty paper goods, but now that I don’t work there…I don’t use the ones i have because I don’t want to run out…I have issues.

3. I take my job as a wife very seriously

4. I’ve never been happy at a church; sometimes I feel like I’ve kind of given up on finding the right one.

5. One of my biggest fears is finding out that we won’t be able to have children.

6. I love my job – but part of me knows I’m not cut out for the corporate world

7. My dream job is to be a stay at home momma

8. There’s part of me that misses the days when we made no money and barely made ends meet

9. I’m more shy than people realize

10. One day I hope to publish a book – most likely a novel

11. I often wonder if writing on my blog is just a self-indulgent impulse to read my own writing

12. I hate tight clothing, sometimes I even cut the tops of tights off so they don’t dig in so much

13. I have become quite a good cook (if I do say so myself) but I hate to bake – I think it’s the measuring that gets me

14. There’s something about having a tan – it just makes me feel better about myself

15. I’m a book-a-holic – at any one time I’m reading at least three books. On vacations I will pack less clothes in order to make sure I have enough books to last the trip.

16. I like my own handwriting and always will pick writing by hand over typing

17. The hammy-down furniture in my house is no reflection of my personality - and I hate that.

18. One day I hope to start a small business…not exactly sure what yet, but I’ve got some ideas floating around

19. I think drinking more water is the cure for most of what ails my husband ;)

20. I always keep polish on my fingernails – it’s the only way I can keep myself from biting them

21. i love making lists – to-do lists, grocery lists, idea lists, project lists. Sometimes if I do something that wasn’t on my to list, I’ll add it on there, just so I can then cross it off – it’s a sickness really.

22. One day I hope to visit India, maybe even live there.

23. I don’t know how to whistle and it always frustrates me that I can’t teach myself - and that some kids can whistle and i can't

24. I’ve kept a journal since I was around 12. I started the day my uncle died and I still have it.

25. I feel a bit exposed by doing this, but I think I’ll post it anyways. :)

Monday, February 2, 2009

untitled


a creation,
yet undone,
but not undoing…

we pause and follow instincts,
doubts and road signs
to places unknown to us, unknowable.

sheets lay, on my side
cold
we huddle together – keeping warm
on grief and longing.

He infuses caffeine into his tired body,
as I keep busy, keeping house and home afloat.

red days follow grey and we count
count the days, the hours –
moments ride by with windows rolled
And radios mute.

we keep peace,
hold vigils with booklights and
consummation.

we wait and wonder
under hand knit quilts and
the light burden
that is our love.

 
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