Blog lovin'

Well, it was only a matter of time before I decided to connect this little page to the world of other people who also have the same hobby of writing their thoughts for the world to see.
[I have no idea what I'm doing...] But you can follow me here:

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The rebirth of a vision

Back in August, I wrote this. To date, that entry was one of the hardest I've ever written.

Not only was the actual writing part hard for me, but realizing that something

I knew God had given me was left to die just plain hurt.  Writing that post was humbling at best, & even as I allowed the words to be typed by my fingers, I refused to fully believe that what I was writing was true. Looking back now, I think I was just too stubborn to admit that the plan I was constructing for my life might not have been the best, right one. I remember telling my friend about a vision I had regarding my future. He said, "The only way to know that a prophecy is true is if it comes to be. I know that's not what you want to hear, but you'll make yourself crazy unless you fully surrender it & be patient."I didn't realize it then, but that was the beginning of a long, tiresome battle of learning to wait. I'm fairly certain it's a lesson I'll be learning most of my life. 

Despite the wisdom I was receiving at the time, I wrote that blog post, but simultaneously kept my heart hardened. It did feel good to admit, in some sense, that I had been wrong, kind of how it ultimately feels good to apologize & tell someone that you're sorry. It's a painful kind of good, the relief you feel once you recognize that you aren't in control. However, I think I held onto hope that ultimately my plan, my vision, my idea of my future would prevail. 

That blog post inspired conversation with a few different people. 

I received emails, texts, and a couple messages about how I was not alone in the process 

of realizing that sometimes, visions just die. I was told stories of heartbreak & triumph, 

the birth of passions, & the dissolving of dreams. Suddenly, my

struggle to surrender to a bigger plan didn't leave me feeling so alone. Again, this was

the beginning of a much bigger lesson I'd take with me for the next season of life. 

For the first time, I realized that people actually read this thing. 

That was both exciting & terrifying to know.

Sometime between August and now, I finally surrendered that vision. 

I realized that there is a season for everything in life & a time for all things. 

But as I sat at a coffee shop Thursday morning, I realized that the entirety of the plan

I had for myself wasn't untrue at all. Sure, the details of where I thought I'd be on this day

are much different than I envisioned them when I first gained that glimpse of my future. 

But Thursday, I saw the redemption of the heart of that vision: that my future was promising

& exciting & so different from what I originally thought, but so equally beautiful.

 There was life to be found in that old vision, albeit the details had changed.
It was a beautiful realization to see all of that come full circle. 

It was like I was realizing, for the first time that death is never permanent. 

It always give birth to new life. Life always wins. 

The wedding club.

I've been working on a couple different posts the past couple days, but neither of them are coming together easily. My brain seems to be becoming more and more scattered as school winds down.  

But today, I was struck by a thought that I felt was worth documenting. 

I was awoken at 3:30 from a text from an old roommate saying she was engaged. 

Despite how I joke about the ABUNDANCE of save-the-dates on our fridge,

it really is a beautiful thing.

I find deep joy in celebrating the love of my friends & sharing in their journeys.

 [As a side note, if you're looking to get hitched, live with me. 

She is my 7th ex-roommate to get engaged.] 

I responded, excitedly, as I always do, & hurried to class. But as I sat down tonight, 

I thought about how someday, I'll be able to say to someone, 

"Thank you for giving me your heart,"

without the fear of having to give it back.
Glimpses like that are pretty. I'm excited for that day. 

Glimpses of Good

"You will have arrived, not when you are rich, but when the sunset stops you because you see its beauty again. Success is free." -Donald Miller. 

        There are few things that are quite as creepy as blogging about someone who has no idea that he or she is the topic of your wandering thoughts. But as strange as it is at first, I tend to write about people frequently in this way. I find joy in knowing that someone who I am writing about might recognize that they are woven into my words. I think everyone likes to feel special in that way, whether or not they are willing to admit it. I like sharing a secret with whomever I've mentioned through the use of just the right amount of detail for them to identify who I'm talking about, while remaining a mystery to everyone else. More than this,  I enjoy the freedom of knowing that the person I've written about will likely never read the words that I've written about them. Something about documenting those moments feels so dynamic, like the ripple of his or her impact is greater than he or she will ever know. It seems like the purity of the impact would be diminished if the person ever knew its value.

        Occasionally, the way a person moves me is by giving me a glimpse of the future I want. Be it an action, a statement, or choice made, it allows me for a moment to capture a picture of what I hope for. I love moments like these because they are so small, yet profoundly moving. When I think about it, I'd say I've learned more through these unplanned interactions than I have in any other setting.

        Yesterday, as I studied in a local coffee shop, I caught one of these glimpses. A homeless woman came in, loudly asking for some money & help. The room immediately felt palpably uncomfortable by this request. I'd like to think that my first inclination would be to lovingly respond, but being caught in that particular moment, I, too, felt uncomfortable. I hate that I felt that way, but I am willing to admit that it is moments like this that elicit my most genuine response. What felt like a very long 5 seconds of blank stares from everyone in the room as we waited for someone to respond was finally broken by a man roughly my dad's age.

     Everything about what he did seemed so natural for him, & I hoped in that moment that one day I might do the same thing naturally. All he did was treat her lovingly. All he did was treat her like she had value, by asking her name, her story. He walked outside with her, bought her a cup of coffee, & listened to her. She had a voice to him. She had worth to him.

    I spent the rest of the day thinking about this seemingly ordinary moment. This guy had no idea that he was profoundly impacting those around him. At one point, my classmate said, "That's the kind of guy I want to marry." I couldn't agree with her more. I felt compelled to mention to him that I thought what he did was really cool. By this time, he was deep in conversation with his neighbors, & it didn't seem right to interrupt. I wish I had, because the next time I thought about it, he was gone.

   So in the spirit of blogging about those who will never know it, I'd like to say thank you to that man.

Thank you for responding lovingly to someone you had no obligation to. 

Thank you for stepping up & taking a risk. 

Thank you for alerting me to my own distrust & cynicism.

Thank you for modeling a strength of character that I hope one day to have. 

Thank you for exhibiting the overwhelming effect of light in darkness. 

Thank you for showing me a glimpse of what is good. 

Beauty in the Ugly.

       

When I was in high school, I got really into listening to Sufjan Stevens. 

His song, "John Wayne Gacy Jr." always haunted me a little bit, but for some reason, 

I was strangely struck by its beauty. I guess I appreciated Sufjan's literary approach & bravery in writing about such a monstrous human being, & I guess I appreciated the overlap of two of my

loves: music & learning. I was taking abnormal psychology at the local university at the time. 

I remember learning about John Wayne Gacy Jr. in class, & then listening to this song on the way home- each time attempting to understand why a story so ugly could sound so beautiful to my ears.

       Much like everyone else, I spent today reading everything I could about what was happening in Boston. As the story unfolded, I felt helpless, sad, & somewhat sick thinking about everything. I hate that our world is so broken. I hate that people are so messed up that they can intentionally harm each other. I hate that I don't understand it. As I headed to a concert with some friends, we discussed the most recent unfolding of events. By this point, 2 people had been killed, many were injured, 1 suspect was dead, & the other was in custody. One friend said, "I really hope they don't kill him." I agreed, realizing later that I wasn't entirely sure what he meant by it. I didn't know if he meant that this man deserved something worse than that or if he genuinely didn't want another death to result from the death that already existed. I understood & hoped for the latter.  I found myself thinking about it off & on for the rest of the show.

        Tonight, I came home to an empty apartment, & for the first time in a while, I remembered that song. I have no idea why it came up, but almost instantly, my eyes filled with tears, & the final verse repeated through my mind. At the end of the song, Sufjan literally compares himself to the man who killed 33 teenaged boys, by saying, 

"& in my best behavior, I am really just like him. 

Look beneath the floorboards for the secrets I have hid." 

It's a pretty freaking creepy verse. 

But as I think about what has happened in Boston this week, & how I should

react, I am struck by the gravity of those words. I am by no way trying to 

condone the heinous acts of a serial killer or make light of what happened this week.

Clearly both have made a rather momentous impression on me. But it got me thinking if

I believe those words. Do I believe that sin is sin & I am capable of such horrific acts as

much as the next person? Do I believe that the same redemption that was washed me

clean is available to someone who's actions have such destructive, far-reaching effects?

Do I believe that there is beauty to be seen in the ugliest thing imaginable? 

I desperately want to believe these things. I claim to believe them in the calmness of

life, but I am really tested when I react to events like this- Events that break

my heart a little bit & expose the true me, which, I am scared to admit, sometimes

looks a lot like the things I claim to hate. I guess it's times like these that make me
thankful that I don't really have to understand much else besides the power of light to overcome
darkness. All I know is that darkness is darkness, & light has the power to overcome
all of it, if given the chance. 

-Laura

Summer Dreaming

“We are music makers, and we are dreamers of dreams.”

–Roald Dahl

            A few weeks ago, with the shifting of the weather and my sights set on the faint glimmer of summer’s arrival, I felt something stir deep in my soul. Each time I sat down to chip away at my to-do list, my mind wandered. It started slowly at first, but what began as a few simple daydreams soon turned into something I couldn’t stop thinking about.  My mind wandered to warm nights on porches, fireflies over fields, and hammocks strung between trees. It seemed like every time I allowed it to, my mind wanted to dream.  So I let it.  This weekend I finally sat down & channeled the dreams into something tangible. It came onto paper in the form of a bucket list. While I was once worried about my first summer in Nashville, I am excited for the prospect of a southern summer in a city I am quickly growing to love. The list is a work in progress. There are items that are failed attempts at past bucket lists which embody desires I’ve had for years, items that are iconic Nashville “must-do” events, and some that are just fun lines from sentimental country songs, that if I am completely honest, I really hope get crossed off.  Here are a few highlights:

One: Join the East Nasty Running Club: 

            I haven’t really mentioned it before, but on April 27^th I am running the St. Jude Music City Half Marathon. Throughout this semester, I have enjoyed training for this race with some of my favorite friends who also happen to be classmates. I am fascinated by the fact that I can (fairly) painlessly get my body to run 13.1 miles. Once the race is over, I want to continue what I’ve started, & the The East Nasty Running Club seems like the perfect way to do this. For my Fort Collins friends, East Nashville reminds me SO much of The Fort. Running through it is good for my heart in more than one way.

Two: Become a share holder with a local farm:

            I’ve had a long-standing vision of being a backyard chicken and vegetable farmer. Maybe it’s been instilled in my small town, Colorado soul, but I dream about walking into my back yard to collect eggs and fresh veggies each morning. The problem with now is I live in an apartment, in the city, & while I did entertain the thought of it here for a brief minute or so, doing this myself just isn’t going to fly. The good news is, I can reap the benefits of local farming, without doing it myself through community shared agriculture. Think what you might about the type of person who participates in a CSA, [& you’re probably correct] but this stuff is cool.

Here are the ones I’m checking out: Green Door Gourmet & Real Food Farms

Three: Watch the sunrise from Café Coco’s porch:

            It’s officially patio-sitting weather here in Nashville.  This place is open 24 hours & I have fallen in love with the people-watching, the vanilla Italian cream sodas, and strangely enough, the frequently failing internet that forces me to stop working for a bit to chat with my neighbors. I am excited for the conversations to be had on this porch.

Here’s to dreaming. 

-Laura

Lessons on Patience & appreciating now.

Maybe I am a particularly oblivious person & I need all the hints I can get, but for some reason, when I’m learning a lesson, I am reminded of its theme e v e r y w h e r e. The conversations I have with people, the books I am reading, and even the media I am currently consuming all seem to point to the presence of whatever truth I need to learn. I appreciate it, because I am so easily distracted, that I often need more than one reminder of the important lessons that come my way.

            I wrote about it in my year-end review, but it seems that the theme so far of 2013 for me is patience. As I sit here on April 5, I can’t help but recognize that the lesson I was learning at the turn of the year is the lesson I am still learning. Even as I write this, the thought of “Aren’t I done learning that, yet?”  has fluttered through my mind once or twice. The irony of that thought’s impatience actually just made me laugh.  Nope, I’m not done learning patience, yet.

            Lately my impatience has manifested itself from the newness of spring and the signs of new life all around me. I am finally feeling the deep peace that was promised to me after the most difficult year of my life, (a post on this will come soon) & I am already experiencing the excitement of restoration and hopefulness of a new year.  But, I find it remarkable how quickly I exchange this fresh start for uncertainty and restlessness for my future.  Almost instantaneously, it seems, I replace hope with distrust and courage with fear. I find myself itching to make things work how I want them to, & a heavy discouragement settles on my soul when things don’t move at the pace or direction I desire them to.

            As prevalent as my impatience has been lately, I have found reminders of appreciating now more abundant yet. I am thankful for reminders that convince me of the beautiful simplicity that results from a patient lifestyle. Something tells me this patience journey will be a lifelong one for me, but today, I am happy to wait. 

[Those] girls.

          I used to think it was kind of crazy when girls did things regarding their future husbands. I had a roommate once who kept a journal that she wrote letters in- each of them addressed to the man she would one day marry. For whatever reason, the idea of that journal freaked me out a little. I had another friend who frequently wrote, altered, and perfected “the list.” The list was made of details, down to eye and hair color, that described her perfect future husband. She fully believed that this list would manifest her perfect man, & if she searched long enough, she would find him. It is not as puzzling to me why that list freaked me out more than a little bit.  Sure, I’ve prayed for him when I’ve thought about it, on occasion. But most of the time I’ve just rolled my eyes & allowed these activities to be left to the crazy girls; the ones so desperate to discover who they’ll end up with that the quest itself leaves them bitter & jaded by any male relationship that does not fulfill the heavy expectations in their hopeful hearts. I’m not saying this cynical view is correct, but it’s what I’ve generally believed.

         Maybe it’s because it’s spring & the save-the-dates on our fridge are multiplying each time I blink, but lately I’ve found my thoughts wandering to who my future husband is- who he will be. I’m not writing any journals or keeping any lists of characteristics, but I do sometimes find myself musing over what that future might look like. Like just about everything else I am cynical toward & then change my mind about, I tell myself, “It’s different when I do it.”  It’s less desperate or weird when I do it, because my motives are pure, I’m just being forward thinking, etc.  For the record, I’m certainly not becoming one of those girls. [If I were to hashtag this statement, it would look something like this: #denial] So maybe I am becoming one of those girls. But either way, It’s kind of fun to wonder who he’ll be. I mostly wonder about harmless things. Things like:

I wonder if he was on Jack Shepard’s side or John Locke’s side [because he must be on one]

I wonder what his dreams & passions are.

I wonder if he’s contemplated what his patronus would be if Hogwarts were real.

I wonder if he ever wrote a journal to me or if he ever made “the list.”

I wonder if he already possesses a love for Arrested Development, or if he’s willing to be converted.

            The nature of these things I am wondering might be an indication in itself that I am

A. Not ready to married

B. Actually more crazy than "those" girls,

but it is fun to think of these things.  At the very least, it helps me realize a hopeful, non-bitter side to the future of relationships. 

What 24 looks like to me.

Yesterday I turned 24. Despite being one of the busier days I've

had since starting graduate school- with spring break already seeming like a distant memory-

it was a lovely day. As I sat in one of my favorite Nashville eateries with

a few good friends last night, I realized that my stomach and heart were both full. 

23 was the hardest year of my life. There were more tears cried in that 

year than any other. There were more moments of confusion, frustration, & fear

in that year than any other. There was more taken from me in that year than any other. 

But, as I reflect on the last 365 days, I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the 

beauty that exists in brokenness. Sprinkled into the pain & uncertainty of this last year

were moments when my desperation for & closeness with God were the most tangible

of my whole life. There were moments of joy & feelings of unadulterated belonging that

are simply unmatched by any other year I've experienced. 

So as I contemplate what 24 looks like to me, I am excited. 

I am hopeful. 

I anticipate beauty in the messiness that will inevitably come.

I am so very thankful for another year to practice what I'm learning

& another year to love & be loved well. 

24, I'm excited for you. 

[Cupcake made by the lovely Maria. Check her out here.] 

Love is a puzzle that can't be solved

If it's possible to be homesick for a place you are currently standing in, that's what I am. 

Saturday,  as I ran down my favorite trail in Fort Collins, 

I felt my heart aching. The weird thing was, it was aching to be exactly where I was. 

It was as if the "I-belong-here" joy that flooded into my heart was just too

overwhelming, & the only response my heart could muster up was to hurt. It hurt for the hundreds

of memories I have made in that place, it hurt from the sheer amount of joy I was

experiencing from being there, & it hurt from knowing that that particular

stage in my life is over. As strange as it was that I felt homesick for the land I 

was standing on, it was also strange that this hurt wasn't a bad thing. 

In that moment, I realized that the changing of the seasons

--whether it be the temporal seasons, or the metaphorical ones--

is good. 

I realized that choosing to be present where I am is not

only necessary for the personal growth, but it is also incredibly rewarding. 

Simultaneously, as I missed that place, I felt excited for where I am, & where I'm going.

I felt excited for Nashville. 

I felt excited for new relationships there.

I felt excited for spring. 

Realizing that the love of where I am does not depreciate my love for where 

I've been is a fairly profound realization for me. The two are not dependent on

each other; there is enough love in my heart for both. 

My week in pictures [3]

This week's picture recap is a couple days late because:

a. School is destroying my free time

b. I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown

c. I'm a bit lazy when it comes to blogging

d. all of the above. 

Once again, this week was full of lots of pictures of things I love

from people I love. The influx of picture texts has officially leveled

out & only the most dedicated of participants remain in the quest for top 4. 

Who needs a theme when your dad sends you updated airport selfies? 

I don't. Here they are, complete with said selfie & of course, my favorite

big-eared animal:

Clockwise from top left:

1. Friday night listening to good music & meeting new friends. 

Despite my demon-possessed eyes, this was a fun night. 

2. Snow day from our front yard. Can't wait to be there in a week.

3. As promised, another pic from dad. Selfies in airports. We both take them:

4. Bellatrix just moved to Vegas this week. This is her excited face. 

Happy Thursday. 

Why I don't hate Valentine's Day

Last year at this time, I wrote a post about why I don't

hate February 14th. I had no idea the year ahead of

me would be as crazy as it was, but as I sit here 365 days later, 

I can honestly say I feel the same way I did then. 

If you know me, you know I am just about 

as cynical as they come. 

If there is something to judge, I've probably judged it. I've

written before that this is one of my very least favorite personal attributes 

& I have been trying to work on it for some time now. While there is a list

of things I do not like that I will gladly tell you about,

Valentine's Day is not on it. 

I know you might be thinking that this is easy for someone in a relationship to say. 

It's easy to love Valentine's Day while clutching a giant stuffed [insert your favorite]

animal, & a bag of Hershey's kisses. & you're right. Most of the time, those who

love this day are in relationships. But this year,

-my first year single on this day in several years-

I can confidently say I still love it. I love love & honestly

the love of other people does not bother me. 

So on this day, I hope you feel loved & can celebrate its beauty. I hope

this Valentine's picture of my favorite coonhound at least makes you smile.