joy to the world.

If I'm honest, I haven't felt much like giving thanks lately. The circumstances surrounding this attitude of [in]gratitude are many and varied, but, still, the unfortunate fact stands: I've been throwing a teeny, tiny pity party.

This season of personal negativity has coincided with the season of Advent, when Christians celebrate the coming of the Savior. This intermingling - despair with hope, flesh with spirit, darkness with flooding, freeing light - has brought about a period of introspection. One thing that I've learned, and am learning, is that worship of and gratitude toward God serve to quickly re-align my thoughts - and my heart - to his.

Too often, I forget the simplicity in his grace. I begin, again, to believe that what I'm called to in following Jesus will be beyond my ability, that I'm better off on my own. I place my trust in the empty promises of independence and self-actualization. And, naturally, I end up in the same pitiful circumstance: temporarily blinded to truth and refusing to take the hand of my omniscient Guide.

Today, on Christmas, I'm hoping for a re-alignment of sorts. I'm praising God for his grace and saying, with the apostle Paul, "Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!"

0051. the perfect latte

0052. Pandora station - Glee Cast

0053. a beautiful new Bible

0054. Texas

0055. rocking a sweet baby to sleep

0056. curly fries

0057. crooked teeth

0058. decaf earl gray with a touch of Braum's milk

0059. fiesty kitties

0060. finding my Passport

0061. a pink, purple, orange sunset stretched wide over Texas skies

0062. relationships restored

0063. chatting - in person! - with my grandparents

0064. old movies

0065. flexibility

0066. warm quilts

0067. that God is personal and relational

0068. road-trip harmonies

0069. imperfection

0070. so so many opportunities for generosity and love

whistling wind.

When I began blogging again a few weeks ago, I said that I wanted to write about "the silly things, and the aha! moments, and the things that bring happiness to my heart" in addition to the deep and difficult aspects of this road that I'm traveling. My writing tends to be passionate, emotional, and intense - and, though I enjoy expressing myself in this way, I'd like to learn to write well in a way that is lighter and simpler.

With this goal in mind, I'll periodically use writing prompts as I blog. I'm hoping that this will bring a freshness and new opportunities for creativity to my writing, and I welcome your thoughts/critiques! To begin...

"I love the sound of..."

I love the sound of wind whistling through the trees, carrying birds' choruses and autumn's fallen colors. I love the brook's gurgling, bubbling song, silt swirling downstream in its earth-sustaining dance.

I love the violin's reedy melodies, the piano's percussive chords, and the long, low notes of the cello. I love funky, folksy, soulful voices.

I love the sound of baby laughter, all joyful and new and uninhibited. I love Mom's gentle drawl, Ben's questions, Becca's words of compassion, Dad's steady "amen." I love silence between close friends, telling of comfort and rest and home.

I love the sounds of living: the giving of thanks, the extending of forgiveness, the joy of hopes fulfilled. I love God's voice here, heard through a million persons and within a million places and in Jesus.

A friend shared this with me yesterday, and it just seems appropriate:

Let me tell you why you're here. You're here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You've lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage. Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I'm putting you on a light stand. Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand - shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven. Matthew 5:13-16, The Message

in limbo.

Main Entry: lim·bo
Pronunciation: \ˈlim-(ˌ)bō\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural limbos
Etymology: Middle English, from Medieval Latin, abl. of limbus limbo, from Latin, border
Date: 14th century

1 often capitalized : an abode of souls that are according to Roman Catholic theology barred from heaven because of not having received Christian baptism
2 a : a place or state of restraint or confinement b : a place or state of neglect or oblivion c : an intermediate or transitional place or state d : a state of uncertainty

[definition from the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary]

I've never been happier to be in a place of uncertainty.

Don't get me wrong: I'm still the same inquisitive gal who would, if I'm honest, prefer to have all of the answers. In this particular time of transition, however, I feel a sense of freedom and expectancy that is normally quite absent from my thoughts pertaining to the future.

There's this verse in the last chapter of Proverbs that I really like. An anonymous author writes of a woman who he considers to be excellent, delineating various characteristics of personality and behavior that set her apart and elicit praise. One line, however, has always stuck out to me:

She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.

Oh, to be like this woman!! By nature, I'm more apt to fear than to trust when facing the unknown - and, at least practically, I've lived by the adage "hope for the best, prepare for the worst" for the entirety of my adult life. It's my hope, as I continue to walk with Jesus, that I'll increasingly know a deep-seated confidence in the Father's desire and ability to provide for my needs. From such a place, I can't imagine a better response than freeing, joyful, grateful laughter.

and, so, I offer thanks.
0036. breakfasts-on-the-run

0037. bearing witness to acts of courage

0038. pretty pink nails

0039. opportunities to love

0040. bright red walls

0041. celebrating the good things in life

0042. a Thanksgiving feast

0043. Scrabble tile earrings

0044. living & learning in community

0045. a particularly challenging book

0046. hugs

0047. a clean slate

0048. pink clouds at dusk

0049. apple spice cake

0050. tears that bring healing

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

star-gazing

If there's one thing that I'm learning, it's that I need to give thanks! Already, this thousand gifts journey has shown me just how often I grumble and complain [both about things/circumstances that I don't have or those that I do and wish that I didn't] instead of lifting my eyes to the Giver of all good gifts. I'm reminded of a few short lines of verse that I read once:

Two men looked through prison bars; one saw dirt, the other stars.

By the time that my list reaches one thousand, I hope to be a star-gazer. Lifting our eyes heavenward does something to us, doesn't it? Some of my favorite memories involve being with friends, wrapped in blankets (or, during hot Texas summers, sprawled in our tanks and shorts) and staring up at the stars. Each time that I've had the opportunity to do so, I've been struck by the vastness of the created order, my own smallness, and the strong, albeit strange, connection between the two. In that place, perspective is found: the day's worries, no longer illuminated by the sun's blinding light, seem less intimidating; voices speaking of war, revenge, hatred fall silent; persons maimed by life's barbs find peace. Surely the God who made all of this is powerful, and merciful, and good.

and so, I lift my eyes...
0021. banjos, in any and every situation (musically and otherwise)

0022. hot lemon-y tea

0023. happy surprises

0024. friends who will let me be real, even when real = messy

0025. new beginnings

0026. Chilean cabernet sauvignon

0027. opportunities to practice bravery

0028. living in a city teeming with people of beautifully different cultures

0029. good running shoes

0030. a clean kitchen

0031. laughing with Dad

0032. the grace to recognize my sin

0033. knowing that pain, while it sucks, won't have the final word

0034. the kindness and generosity of CTKers

0035. the stack of books on my bedside table

trusting.

Today wasn't a great day. I'll spare you the details - suffice to say that life feels a bit confusing, and I'm convinced that the 'real world' is a quite unfriendly place.

I'm thinking that this new intentionality of giving thanks will be especially beneficial as I navigate through [what feel like] increasingly choppy waters. The reality of my situation is this: As of November 23, I will be unemployed. Eeeek! It's a scary thought. There's another reality, though: my Father knows what I need! The biblical author Matthew quotes Jesus: "[...] do not be anxious, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."

My natural state seems to be one of asking questions that are, in essence, like those above. I don't easily trust that God is good - and have even greater difficulty in believing that God is good to me and will continue to be good to me. My experience, however, proves otherwise: despite my best efforts to keep him at arm's length, he has flooded my life with his good gifts - none of which I could earn and certainly don't deserve. How worthy he is of our praise!

and the endless stream of gifts continues...
0011. birthday parties

0012. a beautiful, sunny, unseasonably warm day

0013. friendships that are easy

0014. friendships that are difficult, because they remind me that I am needy

0015. the twinkling eyes of a friend

0016. the "vera cruz vanilla" candle that's flickering (and smelling yummy!) as I write

0017. sweet baby smiles

0018. the newest addition to my wardrobe: the prettiest sweater in my favorite shade of green

0019. peace that is beyond my understanding but is truly felt and known

0020. getting to talk to THREE members of my family in the same day! <3

ohhhh, life is good.

one thousand gifts

I've been inspired by two other women (who blog here and here) to begin a "thousand gifts list." The goal seems simple enough: to list, over the course of a few months, a thousand things for which I'm grateful. Still, the idea's a daunting one - though I certainly have much to give thanks for, it's rare that I stop to consider such things (and whisper a 'thanks' to the Giver).

Of her experience keeping a gratitude list, Ann Voskamp writes: "I am seeing things I have never seen before, atuned and aware of this constant, endless stream of gifts from His hand. I am one waking from slumber....from the stupor of indifference and ignorance. I have sight, fresh and keen---the world is new and full of His gifts."

How much we - I - need to wake up! So, then, my gratitude-experiment begins...

The Thousand Gifts
0001. tasty shelled pecans from Texas

0002. Dad's sweet words of encouragement

0003. college students eager to serve food to homeless folks early on a Saturday

0004. The Wailin' Jennys Heaven When We're Home and other songs with lyrics that speak of beauty and truth

0005. finally - finally! - belonging to a church that I love

0006. conversations at the Mission with JR, CA, & MF

0007. the perfect sandwich: ham, swiss, roasted red peppers, lettuce, tomato, and oil/vinegar on a baguette, prepared by my favorite French-speaking Armenian barista :)

0008. eating tex-mex in Boston

0009. his forgiveness

0010. traipsing around Harvard Square with one of my favorite people

a toast.

It's been six months, almost to the day, since I last blogged - and, honestly, I'm a little surprised to be back.

In seasons past, I've felt a sense of relief and something that vaguely resembles contentment in expressing myself through the written word - but, somewhat suddenly, I found myself at a loss. I'd sit down to blog, stare at the screen for a few minutes, then, sighing, log off. It's not as if I had nothing to say: I certainly had funny stories that I might tell or requests for prayer that I might make or questions that I might ask. Still, for some unknown reason, the words that had always come so easily just ... stopped.

I've been grateful for the silence. It's funny (and ironic, like so much in life): after I shut up, I realized just how much I like to hear myself talk. From this realization quickly followed another: if I'm talking all the time, how will I ever hear what anyone else has to say? The answer was clear - not easily. So, as much as I was able, I kept my mouth shut and started to listen.

By the grace of God, I'm - however imperfectly - still listening. And, surprisingly, that dormant desire to write, and to share life through writing, seems to be undergoing a revival of sorts (!!!).

I want to write about the difficult things, and the deep things - but I also want to write about the silly things, and the aha! moments, and the things that bring happiness to my heart.

To new beginnings!

heavy.

Over the past few months, there has been one client at the Mission with whom I've built a special friendship. This lady (who I'll just call A) and I consumed a lot of coffee together and had more than a few good conversations about everything from our favorite music and our plans for the weekend to our individual struggles and joys.

A began using drugs as a teenager and had, to this point, lived a life marked by dysfunction and pain. As we spent time together, I entered into this pain so far as she allowed me to, feeling the weight of her burden; at times, it was staggering. I grew to care for her and deeply hope for her healing and transformation. Though it seemed impossible for her to imagine, I felt as if God gave me eyes to see the beauty that she possessed. Through these eyes, I prayed not only for her recovery from the disease of addiction but also for her complete restoration through the love and grace of Jesus.

Today, my heart hurts. I learned earlier from A's case manager that she had relapsed this weekend after running into an old group of friends with whom she had used. It's difficult, and maybe impossible, to understand the reasons for A's decision, and I think that I'd waste time and energy in doing so -- but the following are two things that I do know: addiction, at its core, is a disease of deception and when relationships are broken, no matter the reason, it's painful. and it sucks.

please, if you believe that it makes a difference, pray for A.

thanks.

transforming.

Last night, a team of 45 construction workers descended upon the Mission, hammers and paintbrushes in hand, to do a little transformation. Being quite the fan of observing things and people transform, I was excited to see what might be accomplished.

Soon after all of the men had arrived, their foreman motioned for them to circle up. For the next fifteen minutes or so, clients from our house stood before the group and shared their stories. One guy talked about his learning to take small steps toward recovery, recounting his trail of bad decisions and expressing a humble gratitude for the positive steps now being taken. Another of our male clients spoke of a heroin addiction that had taken everything that he cherished most, leaving him broken - but how trusting in Jesus had set him on the path to freedom. Two of our ladies testified, as well, to the good taking place within the walls of the Mission - and in their individual lives - during their time of residence. Each person, when finished, received the kind of resounding cheer that can only emanate from a group of loud, excited, slightly rough-around-the-edges construction workers. Hanging back and snapping some photos, I watched quietly as one of God's everyday miracles took place: men and women were vulnerable, and they were accepted.

One of the construction crew later said that he saw himself in the clients' stories, though he'd never been addicted to any substance or lived on the streets. I share in this man's sentiment, having felt many times over the past few months that, all things considered, I'm just not all that different from the clients that we serve. No, I'm not an alcoholic or an addict - but I struggle, I fall, I doubt, and I'm fearful far more than I'd hope to be. Just like many of our clients, I rely on God's grace to uphold me.

to be continued (with pictures!)...

photogenic.

Slowly, over the past month or so, Boston has begun to feel a little more comfortable - and, on good days, downright homey. Some of you Southerners might scoff at this concept and worry that I've grown delusional up here in the land of Red Sox Nation. While I'll give you that New England isn't exactly hospitable (the below-zero wind chills proof enough!), Boston has this undeniable charm that's hard to match elsewhere, at least in my experience.


I'll let you be the judge.



pretty streets after a snowstorm.

the state house, after said snowstorm.

this is downtown.

I just like this shot. :) it was taken near the Harbor.

cute houses. i happen to live nearby.









I was riding with my roommate last weekend on the way to a wedding reception. About halfway to our destination, she turned onto a road that snaked beside the Charles River for a while. I cross the Charles every day en route to work and, though I find it a welcome diversion from the dark subway tunnels, haven't been overly impressed. This day, however, something about the way that the late-afternoon sun shone through the trees and illuminated the water caught me off guard, and I found myself thinking, "Wow. I live in a beautiful city!!" I've been told that it only gets better as Summer approaches - so, I'm pretty excited. :D

When I'm not admiring my surroundings or discovering one of the many hole-in-the-wall shops and restaurants around where I live, I'm likely doing one of three other things: working, playing, or churching.

Work is both incredibly challenging and fulfilling. I haven't ever done anything as hard or as wonderful as spending 40+ hours a week at the Boston Rescue Mission. Already, I've seen numerous men and women relapse, return to the streets, and continue down the path of destruction. Each time that it happens, I find myself wishing that I could somehow impart the strength needed to stand against the pull of addiction - and, then, am quickly reminded of my own frailty when faced with such obstacles. Thankfully, I've also been witness to the beauty of men and women succeeding in their recovery. I'm learning from them that it's important to deal with my struggles one day at a time, trusting that God is my portion and will give me, as Jesus prayed, "my daily bread."

My play time has been limited, but I've been having a lot of fun when I DO have a free few minutes. Through my roommates and co-workers, I've met some great people who have pretty much taken me under their wing, inviting me to lunch, dinner, parties, movie nights, and so on and so forth. I'm pretty much convinced that I couldn't have picked a better group of people to hang out with. :)

and as far as church goes, I've been visiting one of the Presbyterian variety for about a month and a half. It's different from what I'm used to in more than a few ways, but I'm really enjoying it - and, hey, different is generally a good thing in my book. :)

so, to wrap up - Boston is pretty. Work is challenging. Life is good. <3

paradoxical.

My heart is alternately heavy and light.

My heart is heavy when I come face-to-face with the heartbreak and hopelessness encountered daily by my new friends at the Mission. It's heavy when I come face-to-face with my own stubbornness, pride, and weakness. Some days, it's heavy merely due to the strength-sapping busyness which has become my constant companion.

But this lightness of heart, while elusive, carries me forward. The experience of beauty in the midst of suffering is truly a sight to behold, unexpectedly causing my heart to jump into my throat and tears to spring to my eyes.

My heart is light when I see hopelessness encountering God's hope, the kind that is everlasting. It's light as my weakness gives way to a strength much greater than my own, unexplainable yet beautifully appropriate to each task at hand. And, sometimes, the busyness ceases to allow for a moment of peaceful reflection, seemingly over the most random of subjects - the kindness of a friend, a quiet walk home in the snow, the sound of voices lifting old hymns to the heavens. All lift my heart.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Jesus, Matthew's gospel