When I look at my life, I see:

An overflow of laughter that makes my mouth sore, and teeth hurt.  

Endless cups of coffee stirred by even more eye-widening conversations; things of the heart, head and things that give a sense of home. 

Somehow, an unbounced check–despite my love for wine and grocery shopping.

An endless horizon that is usually a pristine blue, protected by cliffs and the sky. 

Walks to breakfast on saturday mornings and dwell-worthy dinners on weeknights that make me feel fancy. 

Friendships that spark encouragement, creativity and instill prayer and honesty. 

Contentment and joy that lingers and lasts far longer than I give it credit. 

A life that is worth not only looking at, but gazing; all in a trance guided by thankfulness–easily the things I see are the things I not only know, but recognize and know me just as well. 

 

Today’s truth (and tomorrow’s)

To say I’m blessed in an understatement to the point of embarrassment. It seems sometimes there has to be another word to better exemplify the motion I find myself caught amidst so often–yet the understatement shall stand for I seldom am able to find  any other word that fits.

Privileged. Thankful. Lucky. Fortunate. In reverence. Aw shux.

Sometimes I feel it most when I have absolutely no tangible proof that I’m living this awesome (oh thats a good synonym too) life. No accreditation, no trophies displayed, no gold around my neck or in my pockets, no husband to boast about, but I feel it on my skin, I feel it by my pulse.  It’s  like when you drink ice cold water after a long, hard run. Yeah, I’m thankful for water, but the ability to feel it flow downward in what usually is in slow motion into my esophagus, relieving my thirst, lies a thankfulness far beyond an “ahh” after gulping the 32 oz of H2o. So I’m blessed to be so blessed beyond the point of words and even oohs and ahs.

What I do  know is that I am hungry to incapsulate this emotion, because it’s so life-giving.

Yet sometimes I kind of go back and forth on whether I’m really hungry or if it’s just purely the fact I don’t have complete control over what I’m feeling, so I need answers. So I grab everything in site, stuffing my face with what I hope will fill me, what I hope will give me answers. Do we eat to eat rather than eat to be filled? Do we fear and worry which spoils our spirit or do we trust and know, thus nourishing–filling our spirit? Daily, we encounter this decision that has to be made.

Hunger to know Him better.

Because I think when I aim to pinpoint why I feel a certain way (since feeling blessed I just now have realized totally feels like being fed) it’s my insistent desire that I know Him better. To know God better.  Because I’ve learned I cannot even recognize my own shadow if I do not attempt to step in God’s light; being revealed to who He is gives color to my gray that is my emotion and my uncertainty and my fickle wonderments.

Since Easter is upon us as well as all  the beautiful and fluffy Facebook statuses (mine included) you’ve viewed on your feed of recent, it seems all the more pertinent we–I, address this truth that is to be well celebrated tomorrow AND dare I say the day after the rest of our tomorrows.

A date on a calendar marked with great suffering has been often laced with a forgetfulness that well has truly been the death of me; my forgetful turned redeemed love meets head on with the the love marked by a death that has already been encountered and conquered. Enter: sigh.

To say I am blessed is such an understatement.

So as we enter the last day of holy week into a day marked by the blood of Christ, may we hold steadfast to the truth that what we deserve contradicts what He has so graciously preserved for us. All for us. And that though we are a constantly hungry soul, we are eternally fed by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Thanks, yo

I wake up to a mother who respects my adult-ness by knocking at my door for a good respectable :15. Once she followed it with a kiss on the forehead with a look i truly felt communicated, “you work hard, you are a good daughter, so sleep in as long as you need…and what do you want for lunch?”

I sip from porcelain mugs almost daily and the steam rises heavenly towards the perfect places creating the perfect emotions. Good morning, it greets me and the aroma pries my eyes open for the day ahead.

I crave blending ingredients and creating an appetite that stems from recipes that promise color, taste and texture. As everyone oooed and ahhhed, the pauses between each bite proved the true wonders of breaking bread with the ones you love.

I crack open my composition book to scribble meaningless words from meaningful thoughts. Today, I gathered a couple more as an elderly couple split a panini and apple with minimal conversation but an obvious history of love, and future of faithfulness. And it’s such a sight.

I bury myself often in piles of photo collections of past events and present occasions. In the albums recently developed I found a series of moments that are proof we do indeed all grow old, but amazingly closer. My brother, looks more of a man than yesterday though his boyish smile still resides. My mother is found various times staring of at her children as they compare their height and age differences in a couple of shots. And the kids of the family are no longer asking for barbies or hot wheels for Christmas, but iPods and make-up, or at least their grown faces say so anyways.

I depend on cheersing glasses with a best friend or two over conversations that stem from our individual uncertain paths alongside our mutual certainty that we are well taken care of and fought for, sought after. Even more often lately, we praised our problems through accountability, water-proof shoulders, and a reminder of a hope. Or more simply, a home-cooked dinner, laughter that deflected profound sadness and songs sung at the top of our lungs from the bottom of our souls.

But like every human, I am flawed beyond repair, though knowingly worthy of your concerns for me. And though time has bridled me and I have yet to externally become fully what I am wholly internally, know my attempts to shield such a progressively decreasing failure is coated with my coffee and conversations with you, my prayers and thoughts of you and my utter love for you.  All this is stowed away in my temple of gratefulness. The abundance causes it to overflow often. It is powerful and it flows and cranks the wheels of my blood flow. It keeps me grounded during lofty times and floating freely during the heavy ones. My growing spirit is not worthy of such reward received from you.

But sincere it is, boastful it is not. Peaceful it is, anxious it is not. Thankful it is, forgetful it is not.