I have been pushing back at the sky lately, turning my head to breathe and to soak in the light again. The constant barrage of newsfeeds & infighting & outfighting has dried out my bones, and marriage has been working muscles in my heart that I haven’t used in a while.
I though I was pretty unselfish, that I was pretty easygoing, that I was pretty forgiving… I was pretty incorrect. Between living with a new roommate to trying to combine two different methods of doing everything to having to learn and teach the awareness/accommodations of familiarity that our families know, there’s a lot of difficult stuff to be uprooted and dealt with.
Continue reading Uproot
I’m getting married in 42 days.
The comments and squealing and questions have already been hilarious. “What?!” is the most common, especially at college. “Are you guys going to live together after you get married??” is my personal favorite to cackle at.
(Yes. The answer is yes.)
Continue reading #SunchaserWedding
We’ve been cleaning up the house, and we keep finding old, hand-drawn pictures and letters, so I looked up a couple of pictures on my phone.
I showed the pictures to my Mom, but she didn’t want to look at more than one. She just handed back my phone. So I curled my soul up around them, and looked at your smiling faces, and was glad you were at least still alive. At least one of you almost wasn’t (nobody told me, but I knew in my gut what had happened).
It still twists in my chest, some days. Fire is not just light – it burns and destroys too. So I go from beautiful moment and joy to hearing people’s brokenness, their darkest secrets that they pour out to me and I don’t know why, and I have to fight to lift up my hands and let go of my burdens. It feels like even the rocks cry out, groaning under so much shed blood and spirit. When my eyes get heavy, I have often forgotten the crucible of the story – that Christ died the deaths of thousands in one life, and that He carries my load. But this still feels like a thousand small deaths, even after so many years.
Continue reading When Rocks Cry Out: A Letter
I get angry when I’m afraid.
Not my icy kind of anger. No, that’s reserved for more genuine injustices in the world. I mean the downright, take-me-by-the-fists-and-start-punching-and-running kind of anger. Normal, even kind comments become an insult as soon as they reach my brain.
It’s a miserable conviction to realize fully. It’s easy enough to see in hindsight, after you blow up at Person A over what they said, that you felt threatened. Your self-imposed dignity, your history with that person, everything in your heart screams that “NO! YOU CAN’T BE RIGHT ABOUT ME! I’M NOT THAT KIND OF PERSON!”
Continue reading shake paranoia
“There was already a deep black wordless conviction in him
that the way to avoid Jesus was to avoid sin.”
~ Flannery O’Connor
The newly-formed nation of Israel struggled with their newly known Unseen God, just as their ancestor Jacob had done in his midnight wrestling match long ago. Egypt was a saharan Mars Hill, filled with carved idols of stone, wood and gold. Some surrounding cultures worshiped the images themselves, others worshiped like Egypt, understanding them in some kind of representational fashion.
And God banned idolatry with two commandments, even as Israel wandered back to the same images. Desperate for something simple, something tangible and safe, they created a golden calf and danced around it even as Moses stood on the mountain.
Continue reading Invisible Vastness
this was the year that I sang in front of people into a microphone. this was the year that I got my first B in college, had to sit out of a dance because it was too loud, and cooked breakfast with one of my friends the day he asked me out (and I said yes!). this was the year that I flew out to L.A. for a whole week, worked my first hockey game, and lived in a dorm with the best shenanigans ever. I watched my friends grow up with me into even more incredible people.
Continue reading //so set your face against the night
Today, I cried all over the Thanksgiving table.
My Daddy, starting last year, pulls out six blank-lined index cards and fills them with his squarish, engineer’s handwriting. He chooses a word picture for each of us, to help give us a glimpse of what he sees in us.
I was already tearing up as he read my grandmother’s and my siblings’ cards aloud. When he got to mine, I laughed. And then I let myself cry through it, because my eyes were very wet.
Continue reading thanksgiving tears
adulthood is a long, slow climb.
it’s an adventure full of mountains and valleys but nobody said that climbing was always fun. and even the fun parts are draining on your body, climbing up through brush and over stone. there is the rush, the push to get to the top of the next big thing, that saps away at you when you have to stop for breath.
adulthood is terrifying, because it’s the prospect of doing everything on your own, all at once. no takesie-backsies, there is no margin for error: every action is written on a page, and the world is watching you.
Continue reading intravenous faith & struggle pretty
for my guy. and all of us who live.
times like these I’m tired of being tired. Sophomore year feels like a thousand doors; a thousand doors you’re expected to run through with vigor and enthusiasm! just look at the type of people who run for office on campus! everyone functions like that, right?
Continue reading dance in the eye
today I fell on my face into dusty carpet.
after graduation, all of the cards and letters i received lay piled at the foot of my bed – until they needed to be organized, so they were piled under my bed instead, in a far-flung scattering of kind words.
today i pulled them out and started reading them (and in crawling to excavate them, faceplanted). i loved them all, and kept the most important ones.
then i pulled out my bag sent from australia, with all the remnants of my dorm room decorations.
Continue reading unrepacking: life