hidden treasures.

"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field." Matthew 13

I think that, sometimes, the most unexpectedly good gifts aren't readily visible. As in Jesus' parable, goodness often hides beneath layers of dirt, undiscovered but for a man or woman's stumbling upon it and recognizing it as possessing value. I'll be honest: usually, I'm too lazy to be bothered with the digging.

My prayer, these days, is for grace: to dig deeper when God's goodness isn't immediately apparent, and to have eyes that recognize beauty and glory in unexpected places.

giving thanks for his treasures.
0081. tulips that look like s p r i n g. <3

0082. deep conversation on the T

0083. being witness to great talent (in my own friends, no less!)

0084. singing and sharing communion with fellow believers

0085. spicy Mexican food

0086. less spicy (but just as tasty!) tapas

0087. cruising down the highway

0088. hot apple spice tea, brewed double-strength

0089. tealights in a row

0090. Christmas cards, still taped up in late January

0091. shearling moccasins

0092. red brick sidewalk + stilettos

0093. the Psalms, and Job's story

0094. goosebumps

0095. good memories of people, places, and experiences

0096. clean dishes

0097. running into people who I know around the city

0098. a blue bowl with tart green apples

0099. a high in the 50s tomorrow!

0100. the opportunity to work with each of my clients (and getting to #100 on this list!)

winter won't last forever.

This day came with a vengeance, the wind's icy fingers creeping underneath my hat and inside my boots and, it seems, into my very soul. Snow fell fast overnight, weighing bare branches low and enveloping the city in a wintry quiet. The summer's warmth has long gone, and in its absence has settled a longing for those tell-tale signs of springtime - birds chirping, snows melting, magnolias blooming - that shout of new life.

I'm grateful to live in a place where I have the opportunity to witness such a dramatic change of seasons. There's something to be said for living in much milder climates - there's certainly part of me that misses those 70* January days - but this very stark shift in my external environment directs my thoughts to the inner life, too, and for this I'm thankful.

Christian theology teaches that we come into the world spiritually dead, a condition inherited from our first parents, and find life only in the Savior and Son, Jesus. I believe this to be true, and see echoes of this concept of death-to-life scattered throughout the human experience. The deadness of winter is one such echo, serving as a reminder of the coldness of our hearts before being lit by the Spirit's flame.

I've been day-dreaming of summer - spending lazy days reading in Harvard Yard or concert-going at the Hatch Shell or eating popsicles on the front stoop in a tank top and shorts. These days, I stay indoors much more than I'd like - but the promise of April beckons, and I remember that the world won't be frozen indefinitely. Likewise, when I walk through the winters of life and my spirit grows cold, I remember that it, too, will not be frozen forever. I hope in Jesus, whose resurrection from death-to-life inaugurated the coming of the Kingdom - God's new way of life - in our present world. Because of his grace, this redemptive work has extended to people like us, waking us from our slumber to the glorious life that is at hand. Thanks be to God!

resonating.

I just watched Garden State, all the way through, for the first time. I remember being a little scared away from it a few years ago because there were some drugs and one particularly sexy scene, and that sort of thing made me nervous. Now, I understand why so many people were drawn to this film - and why I kept hearing about it, for months and months, after it came out. I don't know the fancy filmmaker lingo - far from it - but from where I stand, we watch stories like this one because they make us feel human. Characters like Sam and Andrew remind us of the people in our lives - and, probably, of ourselves - and so we resonate with their struggles and joys and feel connected to the vast, diverse, crazy family of humanity. Stories like this one speak to the redemptive value of every awful bit of our lives, giving us hope that nothing is wasted and that life, with all of its seemingly random experiences, is about something much more meaningful and interconnected than we could've dared to dream.

I think that it's important to note, too, that we are so drawn to these sorts of characters because we're allowed to see their flaws. It's easy to think, walking around in this world of ours, that we struggle alone - none of us especially enjoy talking about how messed up we are, right? Maybe it's due to a lack of confidence, present in all of us to some degree, but coming face to face with imperfection is freeing. It allows us to breeeeathe a long-overdue sigh of relief, affirming our own messy and beautiful story.

giving thanks for this beautiful mess.
0071. wilted flowers

0072. a down comforter

0073. comfort food

0074. reallllly mellow music

0075. hot soup

0076. the brisk, biting wind

0077. A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, which gave me new ways to think about story

0078. dialogue with those who are different

0079. warm, knotty hats

0080. my daily Bread

a day of promise.

I'm not sure what it was, exactly, that set today apart - as days go, this one was unremarkable, filled with such activities as napping, chatting, lunching. Still, I couldn't help but notice a quiet stirring in my heart, whispers of newness and hope and - could it be? - faith welling up, a promise of the grace of God.

Trusting Jesus, at least since college, has been littered for me with periods of doubt and unbelief. Though I say with the apostle Peter, 'Lord, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life, and I have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God,' I find that I'm more apt to fear and fret than to have faith and believe. My heart, I've found, is easily distracted - and my will, following suit, lacks resolve.

I'm reminded, today, of my dependence on the Father's grace. It boggles my mind when I consider that even my faith itself is a gift, given that I might glorify and enjoy and know the Author of all life. I'd be lost, like a sheep without a shepherd, if not for his grace.