I'm Hanging Out Without Everyone (And Other Concerns)

This is dedicated to the middle schoolers sitting across the aisle from me at Kaldi's apparently skipping an after school class. Specifically to the girl who was shamelessly playing match maker between her doppelganger friend and the boy they were with. To each of you I say: 1) I don't blame you for skipping this class AFTER SCHOOL! 2) Pump the brakes on the raging hormones 3) Get out of Kaldi's! This is my place as a 29 year old to read my book and laugh to myself in a corner. I don't want overly flirtatious giggles invading my internal monologue. I've earned the right after a long day at work to find a dark corner and sip coffee. Find a smoothie bar, you'll have plenty of time to pump yourself full of legal addictive stimulants. This is my time (said with as much passion as the guy from Goonies) 4) I hope, for your sake, you were joking about your mom texting you and telling you she knew you were skipping. However the look of panic on your face and the immediate bolting out of the shop says otherwise. 5) Best of wishes to the 3 of you. You really were quite precious!

It's not actually a big deal, except for the fact that it's awesome- I finished reading my 6th book in January! I nestled myself up in Kaldi's to finish one just so I could say I finished 6 books because I personally feel 6 sounds more impressive than 5. Like, wow, that girl read more than a book a week! I know, impressive right?!

I'll also have you know that I am easily influenced. Not in the hey do you wanna try this cocaine kind of way but the I'm around a Canadian for 2 seconds and I'm saying aye, and doen't cha knoew way. In that same respect the way an author writes, therefore the way I imagine them speaking, rubs off on me as well. I've just finished reading Mindy Kaling's, Kelly Kapoor from The Office, book Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns). She is absolutely hilarious and I have found myself imitating her a bit in my conversations- or at least my mental version of her, and in my writings. If anything seems witty, humorous, or random in this or writtings to soon follow know they were influenced by her. Then again I can sometimes be those things apart from her influence so... how about if you feel compelled to compliment my writing I'll receive them and sort through which ones she deserves the credit for. Deal? 

My reading her book has come at an interesting time in my life. Some of you may have felt a little sorry for me getting through 6 books in one month because you feel it speaks volumes about my social life. You, my dear readers, have no reason to fear but may have room for concern. It's ironic but in the 2 days it took me to finish her book I ate lunch by myself and then coffee in a dark corner... by myself. Yes, everyone is hanging out without me. The very feeling I've had for the past ohhh... well it doesn't matter.

None the less, my stifled laughs in a dark corner got me to thinking. Maybe everyone's not hanging out without me, maybe I'm hanging out without everyone else.  I felt like I was having the time of my life. A Mayan latte and a cinnamon roll paid for by a generous man (birthday gift card style) and a book that makes me laugh like I'm in a public library which always make me want to laugh even harder. Do you find this is the case? Maybe, you don't spend much time in libraries anymore with newfangled technology and all. I however have found myself retreating more into libraries with the more technology produced. None the less, when something tickles me while I'm in a library I want to laugh 10 times louder and more than any other time. It's because I can't that I want to. Oh how I love that kind of laughter. It will either force its way out throw tears, possibly louder more obnoxious coughs, or a situation that might have me running for the ladies. Laughter, it really is quite curring. 

I've felt relatively distant from friendships recently, which I speak about in a post that is maybe a little too fresh and (unfortunately this word is all I could think of) raw to release out to public just yet. So it waits in a vault, waiting for wounds to heal and the hurt to be less hurtful and maybe more humorous. But until then it will suffice to say I've had a lot of alone time lately , which could lead a person like myself to be a little Debbie Downerish. Thanks to those friends that have found themselves getting an earful from asking how are you or how was your day and actually caring enough to stick around to hear the legitimate answer. One day if I ever write a book you and your kindness will be mentioned in it. Today, however, you will get thanked on this little blog of mine that averages 5 views a month. 2 of those views may or may not be from me or kind family members. A special shout out today to a friend I'll call Katechelson for giving me a deep love for bearded lumberjack men in great fitting jeans. I love that I get to see this on display frequently. The End. 
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P.S.
It really bothers me that in spell checking this mug it asked me consider changing Goonies and didn't recognize texting as a word. I'm just saying, if "sexting" is a recognized word in the dictionary "texting" should definitely be on spell check!

one blank canvas

I was just rereading Acts 17:29-31. With this new crafting self of mine coming out over the past 2 years I was struck by the idea of shrinking God to some art form; gold, silver, stone- an image formed by the art and imagination of man.

I imagined a blank canvas and what color I would paint it were I trying to contain the essence of God in art. I originally decided splatter paint of all the colors of the rainbow because no color seems to quiet grasp His beauty. But then I thought of how paint couldn't be the only medium used because that doesn't seem to really convey the many facets of His character. In my minds eye I placed some buttons, feathers, lace, and sequence on the canvas (mainly because those are things right next to me at my craft table). My imagined image was already a far cry from how I would actually want to portray Him. So I started over, cause that's the joy of imaginations. Just a blank canvas. The more I thought about that blank canvas the more I thought it was great just the way it was. Until I realized that even it, was not enough. One blank canvas couldn't come close to even the very fringes of the greatness of God.

I kind of love that about Him. While other gods are in the carved images of their worshippers , toppled over by any minor disturbance and broken in the fumbling hands of a toddler, God, Yahweh, stands firm, unable to be attained in the feeble attempts of man's artwork.

He is unattainable and yet has chosen, for those who believe in Him, to abide in them; to forever dwell with them, to set them free, and to one day bring them into eternal rest with Him. To the God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth.

Isaiah 62:1-5

Today a 16 year old drooled directly into my mouth. I was worried she wouldn't remember me but she did and was in fact overjoyed to see me. I was suffocated with hugs and tickled by unexpected hand grasps. My eyelids are a little tender from her propping them wider so she could reacquaint herself with my eyes. It was in one of these eye propping hugging frenzies that I was laughing and she, in joy, was drooling and the two did meet. Her drool. My mouth. And though disgusted at the moment, I'm now warmed at her unabashed delight in me. 

It had me thinking tonight, driving home, about His delight in me. His deep compassion set on me. And yet how I live as though He is the withholder of all things I long for. Tonight I'm moved by His earth shattering love for me and convicted by my flawed view of His character and intentions. He is giving me Himself, the King of the Universe, the one of whom all nations will one day bow- His delight is in me. I am His beloved.

And though I still feel the tension of how to long for those things that are not yet mine and how to surrender all to Him, tonight, in the quietness of my thoughts and this room, He is more than enough for this heart of mine.

Letting Go

You know that moment in The Holiday where Arthur hears the song Jack Black's character has made for him and he conquers the stairs before the crowd there in his honor? I feel as though I am having one of those moments. I'm listening to these guys, finishing some upcycled jewelry, and thinking- always thinking.
Today has been a myriad of emotions. Better said, this Christmas break has been filled with the sublimely unexpected and now all the questions that lurked in the background have come to the forefront of my mind and all of these emotions are flowing with them.

Unfortunately, few of these questions can be answered in a concrete way for me to understand, so I've wrestled all day with being grateful and feeling utterly hopeless. Agitated at not being able to verbalize all I want to say I've become restless and anxious. What cures these things? Fresh air and letting go. So that's what I did.

I cut the helium filled birthday balloons, walked outside with no coat and strings clinched in hands. I took a deep breath and I let go. My balloons rose high above the roof  I felt my prayers were hitting and continued to soar into the dark sky. I eventually lost sight of them as they floated above the tree and pond and with that I felt a release. My balloons are gone, somewhere over  yonder and like them my prayers have left my lips and now lie in the Father's heart. I have no string to continue to clinch to but I trust they will be heard and He will respond.