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!