This morning met me with the barking of dogs and people coming in and out of the house in the normal morning bustle that is synonymous with my family.  There was something about this morning that felt a bit off, and I realized that I had been dreaming all night about the chemistry exam I took yesterday, rehearsing all the problems in my sleep that I should have known how to do but forgot when it actually counted.  Ah the disappointment of preparation that just doesn't seem to carry through to the end of the task.

After mulling around for a bit in self-pity, I went outside to sit on my porch.  Being greeted by the chirping of birds and morning air that reminds me of a lovely Nicaraguan summer never fails to coax me out of a bad mood.  It also has the effect of a truth serum on me for some reason--one of those settings where all I can do is be perfectly honest with myself and with God, uttering prayers that sound more like what I really feel than what I pretend to feel to sound like a good follower of Him.  I'm pretty sure He likes those conversations better anyways--the ones where I finally own up to the things in my heart, but where I also get to praise him in the place where nothing seems to be moving forward in my life.  If you think about it, heaven isn't the place where we get to press through the hard stuff and feel the beauty of His goodness in the times that don't make sense.  That's for now, for this place where we live in a place of continually learning what it means to have eternity written on our hearts, to trust that God sees the big picture and that He satisfies the desires of our hearts in the richest, deepest, most fulfilling way.

"I swear when I grow up, I won't just buy you a rose.

I will buy the flower shop, and you will never be lonely.

Even if the sun stops waking up over the fields

I will not leave, I will not leave 'till it's our time.

So just take my hand, you know that I will never leave your side."

-Fun. "The Gambler" 

This whole month has flown by like a blur.  I remember the first day of April and the excitement I had in being able to finally quote Shakespeare, "The uncertain glory of an April day."  We are now at the last day of April, and the only marker I really have for months and days right now is the almost daily calculation of the day my grandma passed away.  Less than three months have passed and I am amazed at how grief and loss find ways to mark the calendar with their process.  


Now it is almost time for the May flowers and all the expectations that come with spring.  In between a new job as a barista, school, and balancing other random jobs, I haven't made time for contemplation or writing--things that I usually need for heart survival and health.  


Leave it up to a dear friend's wedding to bring you back to the beauty of the present and the possibilities of the future.


I just returned home from Virginia Beach, where I had the incredible honor of watching my friend Audrey become the gorgeous bride of the man of her dreams.  The culmination of a dream seems to lay in wait like a key, ready to open up a whole horizon of brand new dreams if we can only rest in God's goodness, His timing, His unmatched story writing, refusing the rush of a "have it now" society.  Maybe those brand new dreams were actually always present, but just couldn't be felt yet.  As I watched the couple exchange vows, I just felt wonder over the possibilities and adventures ahead for them now as a team--an incredibly well matched and beautiful team. 


God makes beautiful things out of us.  Always and forever.  


Now that the wedding is over and I have returned to real life, I feel an incredible sense of joy (minus the fact that I miss my friends terribly and wish we all lived closer to each other).  Maybe that happens when you get to be a part of watching someone you love enter into the sacredness of marriage after you know their back story and the sacrifices and faith involved in getting to that exchange of vows-- it realigns your heart into remembering how good and faithful God is to our lives and our hearts--it stirs up faith in His plan as the very best of fathers.  


So now to make some time today to just sit back and thank God for the present--and let Him know that I am indeed excited for all that He has in store.  


Best wishes to Audrey and Eric!  

In college, I seriously considered about ten different majors (and then jokingly considered about 20 more), ranging from strategic intelligence to international relations to spanish to journalism to biology/pre-med.  I finally settled on a journalism major, filmmaking minor, but it was quite the journey to even get to the point of declaring a major.

What may appear to be an "indecisive" nature hasn't changed much.  I don't know if it is a thirst for life or a lack of identity, but something in me wants to believe that I can learn everything that sparks an interest in me and that somehow, every passion will be incorporated into one big tapestry along the way.

There have been a few times in my life where I've thought, "If only I could live several lives!  Then maybe I could do it all: be an FBI agent, a novelist, a business owner, a sailor, Huckleberry Finn, a doctor, an actor, an olympic athlete, a lion tamer (not), write a screenplay, master a musical instrument and travel the world..." (and the list gets a bit more ridiculous the longer I think about it).  But a few days ago I was having a thought along those lines when it hit me how sad I would be to have to do life over again.  Not sad due to a loss of interest in all alternate life-stories, but sad because I would never want to live in a world where the people I love in this one life I've been given aren't there with me.

It gave me a new perspective.  Yes, it's fun to dream big and to imagine what can be packed into the blink of an eye.  Yet, in the end, what matters comes down to relationship.  To pursue 100 hobbies and maybe "master" a few, yet never cultivate rich relationships or offer yourself to another, would seem like a sad close to what could have been an incredible adventure.

And in that moment that was the culmination of lots of stress and worry over "how to spend the days of my life"in the most lasting and fulfilling way, I may have defined something that will impact the rest of my life.

Saying Good-bye

Loss.  It is universal to every breathing thing, and yet, it is one of the most personal experiences on our journey.  

Two weeks ago, I was in the hospital with my grandma.  She lived with my family for the last three and a half years, and Monday morning, February 20, 2012 at 5 a.m. we watched her pass into eternity.  All night I was taking shifts with other family members, holding her hand to just let her know we were there and that we were so grateful for her life.  Her final breath still seems like a dream.  We knew it was coming, but I don't know how you can prepare for that.   

She was exactly ninety-one and a half the day she died, and her life was well lived.  We were so blessed by the fact that her memory and cognitive skills remained completely intact.  There is no money that could ever buy the stories that she passed on to us, stories in which I find an incredible legacy that I get to carry with me forever.  

Still, even when the good-bye is to someone who has lived a full life, it is still so difficult.  At least for me.  As I was cleaning out the family refrigerator a few days ago, I was on a frenzy of throwing things in the trash.  People say that grief makes you want to do that sometimes.  But then I came across a package of bologna, and even though no one else in my family eats that, it was hard to throw it in the trash.  It was another moment of admitting that Nanny is not coming back.  

In the morning, I still wake up thinking I need to make sure she has her oatmeal before 10:30 am and that she will need a fresh cup of coffee.  I still come home from work wanting to tell her about my day and ask her advice on different problems I run into.  In so many ways, she was more than just a grandma.  When both my parents lost their job at the end of last year, we were sent into a spin of emotions filled with fear and sadness.  Yet Nanny was there, our biggest defender, our best friend.  She never gave up on any of us, not even my dad, who a lot of people gave up on in a really short amount of time.  

I will miss her so much.  I will miss telling her about my boy drama, or more so my lack of boy drama, to which she would always reiterate, "Don't rush into things.  Just do what you are doing, and it will happen.  Don't worry about it!"  But usually that advice would quickly be followed by, "You could always go to a military ball!  Isn't the Naval Academy close by?" and I would just laugh and say, "Maybe I'll do that, Nanny."  I will miss eating breakfast with her in the mornings.  I will miss her giving me advice on my job search, and letting me know that one day I will be at the top of whatever field I want to pursue. She always thought like that--that we had what it took to be excellent and to use that influence to make a difference in the world.  I'll miss how on hard days after my family went through the trauma of a church split and the loss of friendships, she would tell me to just curl up in her bed and talk to her about it, and unlike my parents who would quickly want me to forgive people, she would, for a second, let me be totally angry at how things went down.  I will miss her feisty opinions and the way she seemed to purposefully try to generate heated conversation.  I will miss watching her come to the aid of the underdog time after time after time.  I will miss her laugh and the fact that she refused to wear her dentures.  I will miss taking her to mass every once in a while on Saturday nights, and the peace that was in her room because she was a woman who knew how to pray.  I will miss her opinions of the current GOP debates and the blaring of every evening FOX news show as I was trying to sleep in a room down the hall.  I will miss filming random conversations with her.  

People say that after losing someone, you always wish that you could have had just one more conversation, one more moment, one more memory.  It's hard to come to terms with the fact that she and I won't be going to see Iron Lady like we planned, or that she won't be giving me grammar lessons like we talked about. There is a space in our lives that she filled so beautifully, and now that it feels empty, it is a whole new journey of grappling with the very human experience of letting go.  

All I know is that in the midst of working through the unformulated and messy process of grief, I am so incredibly thankful that I had the privilege of knowing Nanny in a way that never would have happened if she didn't decide to live with us.  I'm not sure why she chose that--maybe the whole underdog thing again--but I will forever be grateful for the time I had with her.  

Point to Live By.

"If you believe an industry is so unsafe or dishonorable that you wouldn’t offer up yourself or spouse/child (real or hypothetical) to work in it, then you shouldn’t use the products of that industry."
-Carolyn Hax

How incredible,
that we have the ability to both dream of things that have never been and to see them become a reality.

How crazy is that?  To imagine things that are not "real" in a tangible way, yet with a small bit of daring and belief, can be pioneered into existence...and that in YOU, God has created that potential.

There are obvious OCD behavior traits that I display on a frequent basis, one of them being my grammar nazi tendencies that are mostly directed towards my own writing, specifically when it comes to spelling.  I do blame this on my mother and grandmother who had very little tolerance for poor grammar (even though I definitely see how I've become lazy in remembering rules over the years...good thing they don't read my blog).

However, their encouragement to pay attention to details prepared me for new worlds.  It's crazy how quickly we forget to give credit to the foundational things in life, like learning basic math, how to tie a shoe, how to make a simple meal, etc etc.  Without the basics, there would be nothing to build upon.  

One of those worlds is a fascination with how letters strung together in a specific way create a word, and how that word has a denotation that can be found in every dictionary, yet to each person that word may have a very personal and emotional meaning, giving it various connotations.  

Sometimes I like to take this fascination that I have with connotations and how they say something about a person, and just brainstorm what comes to mind when using different words.  

For example, simplicity.  

The quality or condition of being easy to understand or do. The quality or condition of being plain or natural

But when I think of simplicity... here is what comes out: 

I believe that word, in my own connection with it, actually has a smell, a taste.  It's an ivory bar of soap that floats in water.  A campfire.  Garden herbs.  Rich flavors and colors that you can taste and see because you are present.  It feels like a picnic lunch.  catching the sunrise and sunset, and each time standing in awe of the newness of it all.  it's wearing out a pair of hiking boots or wearing out your favorite album because you've had every song on repeat for the last year. the waves of the sea.  watching a sailboat elegantly glide across water, reaching a new destination.  having a lord of the rings movie marathon.  and building a fort with your siblings before that movie marathon. watching the sound of music for the millionth time.  breathing in fresh air. a hard work-out and the shower that follows.  conversations with strangers that change your life.  conversations with close friends that touch your heart.  laughter because of goodness that gets into your soul.  A good, real cup of coffee with a spot of real cream.  de-cluttered rooms.  generosity.  Living with your heart fully engaged in the journey, exploring but never leaving your roots.  It's the staples of life, like ketchup, ranch dressing and hot sauce.  It's going to a youth camp in Mexico where you are living life with people who speak a different language, yet you still feel right at home. It's rejoicing in the journey so fully that bitterness, unforgiveness and anxiety have no chance at cluttering your heart, yet still living with such a clear and honest heart that you are aware of the very real fact that those enemies would love to destroy you if given permission.  It's the deep, big question conversations.  And the short, fun ones too.  The total enjoyment of an ice cream cone, even in the middle of winter.  It's pixar movies and unpolished, honest writing.  

The list could probably go on and on.  And if I asked someone else what they think of when giving life to the word simplicity, it would probably be a completely different list.  

you should give it a try, even if you think I am crazy and OCD.  :)