A little of home

I never saw a key to the house I grew up in. Surely we had one-but there was ever a need for it; the doors were never locked.

Huge Oak at the end of the driveway. Tire swing. A rock waterfall in front of the garden...Front yard, home to dozens of touch football games(and injuries), just beyond the stairs leading to the front door of our home with the wooden porch swing. Images of home, built by daddy's hands and momma's love.

I knew the dog whose paw prints are in the cement basketball court. And I learned to shoot on the faded orange lines. There were countless nights I'd crawl on top of my car when the rest of the house was long asleep and find myself completely lost in the vast stars. It was those nights that I began to understand God's pursuit after me. He'd show off with those stars and make me feel like I was the only one who could possibly see the world as it was at that exact moment...and I knew, the stars always shine brightest at home.

My name is signed upside down on the window sill in my old room. And there's a hole in the carpet where I once spilled bleach. And if you want to know how tall I was when I was 11, it's on the wall by the pantry.

I liked to look out our kitchen window, through the pasture, across the creek, and up the hill to see the house where my parents met.

It may not be perfect to you with Pepto Bismol walls and holes hidden by frames. But it was.

I drove by it the other day. The grass is grown up and there's no longer vegetables in the garden and the water is drained from the pool...and I comfort myself with cliches-this isn't my home anyway and all good things must come to an end and something about chapters ending and beginning (which is where I always cut myself off)...

But some days, my arms ache climb the oak with my brother or spend an entire summer by the pool with my cousin or walk through the French doors to momma and daddy's room and crawl in bed with them.

They're just four walls,I know, but on overly sentimental days like this, they are much more.

Passion in Paint

I was once asked what my greatest fear was. My answer was that I'd somehow get lost in a routine and go through life without a passion and purpose. That someday I'd be all grown up and settled and realize that I didn't make an impact-I didn't live up to my purpose. That person responded by saying that if I was aware of that fear, then I wouldn't fall to it.

I think he was wrong.

Because IT IS SO EASY to go through one day without passion and purpose, so stringing them together one day after the next-it's really that much of a stretch when you think about it. It no longer bothers you.

Tonight I got a message from my best friend. She was talking about one of our favorite subjects to discuss in great detail-passions.

More specifically how easily it is to get lost in the mundane and think our passions are nothing more but silly dreams. We don't let each other stay there long because one thing we do know is that even if everyone else, the rest of the world thinks we're foolish, we push each other forward. I'm thankful for a friend like her.


So whatever your passions are. Do them. Don't lose them. You desperately need them.

Photograph this rain.
Join a bible study.
Start a bible study.
Write a letter to a friend who moved away.
Take a trip.
Throw pottery.
Sing really loud (and off key).
Paint.
Read a book cover to cover without getting up, drinking coffee out of you favorite cup.
Jump on your trampoline.

Whatever it is...do it.

books. backseats. blockquotes

When I read a book, I almost always rush through it to get to the end. I think I'm just too impatient, (and it's a habit carried over from middle school when I didn't want anyone to think I was a slow reader) but, inevitably, when I realize there's only about 15 pages left, I slam on the brakes. I'm just not quite ready for it to end.

Even though my youngest brother is practicing for drivers test as we speak, I still think of him as the cutest little boy ever. He has so much life and always has. When he was younger and all six of us would be in the car on vacation all of a sudden Daniel would get really excited about something he saw and he would yell, "Hey! Hey! Guys...everybody, whoa-did you see that??" And by the time we finally got out of him what he was talking about, the thing that had captivated him to such excitement was long gone. We missed it.

Sometimes I think this same attitude carries over to our lives. And I think sometimes God is like a little kid in the backseat that's so excited and is exclaiming, "Hey! Did you see that? Look-hurry!" But we're driving too fast and we're too focused to even notice the disappointment He feels at missing out on what He's excited about and wants to share with us.

Isn't life so much more than that? Isn't there so much beauty left to be seen? And why wouldn't we take the time to see the bright colors and strange sights and things that make us thankful and things that confuse us in their complexity? Life is more than we give it credit for. I'm afraid God intends for us to get more out of it than we do.

I just finished Cold Tangerines and I want to leave you with a quote (one of many highlighted) that I really like.

Because it seems like that's what God is saying to us, over and over. "What can I do today to remind you again how good this life is? You think the color of the sky is good now, what till sunset. You think oranges are good? Try a tangerine." He's a crazy delightful mad scientist and keeps coming back from the lab with great, unbelievable new things, and it's a gift.

"Oh honey, there are so many things in life worth your tears, but this just isn't one of them..."

This was a converstation I had with one of my players, who was also a cheerleader, that had a cheer competition and basketball game on the same day earlier this year.

For some reason this scene that played out in the weightroom months ago popped into my head and got me thinking.

I'm not ashamed to say that it the past 12 months I've had my far share of crying, and honestly, I could probably justify the majority of those tears-heartache, frustration, growing, change, confusion...very few people would fault me for it. As my mom says, "It's more that ok to have your moment, just don't let it become WHO you are."

But when I'm honest with myself, how many of those tears were shed for the hurting and the hungry?
For the lost?
How many tears led to positive action rather than self pity?
Were any out of brokenness or humility?
And when I get to the heart of it, what does that say about my priorities?
And how do I even begin to justify that?

I'm running in a marathon in a couple weeks. Well, actually a relay marathon-which is far less impressive, but still quite far. I committed to run a couple of months ago and have had ample time to prepare. Yet, here I am, two weeks away and can still barely make it two miles without stopping. Sad, huh?

There are so many times when I'm humbled by how far I have to go (not that I ever thought I was close to where I need to be, but wowzers!). Is my lack of preparedness, motivation, and commitment a trend in my life? Or in my walk with Christ?

But the good news, no, the BEST news, is that Christ consistently and subtly calls our attention to the things that matter. The things of Him. He puts people and things and memories and stories and movies and a baby's laughter and snow capped mountains in our lives, and all of these somehow beckon us sweetly and softly back to Him.

And suddenly the beauty of mountains and the pain of running and the memory of a conversation from months before make me more acutely aware of my passions and priorities in a wonderfully intricate way. A way that only my Father could weave together to make sense in my life.

Long Time, No Blog

SNOW. SO MUCH SNOW.

I tried to leave today. I didn't get far. Chalk that up to me being a chicken driving on ice or the fact that I didn't have a whole lot of motivation to get to practice or that that I kept sliding and getting stuck, either way-it didn't last long.

The snow has been rather nice though.

So for my first blog in 3 months or so, I thought I'd leave you with some pictures.

This is Gracie and me sledding on 1st snow day :)

And this is me trying to leave...

Ice Skating with the boyfriend :)

Picking me up on the scooter. We got lots of laughs and honks and pictures taken.

Sweet fort we built while we were snowed in.

I hope everyone else who's had snow days have taken full advantage of your days off!

I've been sitting in a Jammin' Java for the last couple hours working on...stuff? Sorta. And I became painfully aware of how good I am at wasting time. So in light of this revelation, I started going through pictures on my computer from the last couple months. It's been a wonderful last couple of months. It's been insanely busy, emotional, challenging, and reflective. But it's been so much. And sometimes when I'm tempted to focus on the less than ideal parts, it's as though God reminds me, "Hey, it's ok! Look at all I've given you!" I am so blessed. Through everything, I'm learning and growing and changing and loving. And finding joy.

There's joy in hitting my ball in the water 8 times while putt-putting.
There's joy in doing cart wheels in front of the Alamo and getting lost in Tulsa trying to find a coffee shop and walking on the Riverwalk and going to baseball games in Kansas City. There's joy in the face of my 5 year old cousin. And there's an ultimate joy in knowing that God intended us to live a life focused on bringing glory to Him in everything we do. Life is so full of joy that isn't to be missed!

 

2 Our mouths were filled with laughter,
our tongues with songs of joy.
Then it was said among the nations,
"The LORD has done great things for them."

3 The LORD has done great things for us,
and we are filled with joy.

Make you smile.

I live with my grandma.
I love hearing stories.
My grandma is a phenomenal story teller. About 5 Christmases ago, my cousins, brother, and I were genuinely mad when we found out the stories she told us when we were little came from Little House on the Prairie.

But tonight, we are sitting here watching Sleepless in Seattle, and she starting telling me about her first husband who died in a car wreck when she was 24. She starting talking about him tonight. Turns out they met the day before her 21st birthday and were married 9 days after her 21st birthday. They eloped. And I can only imagine the chaos and the panic she put in my great-grandparents. I bet it was beautiful. And they were crazy in love. And I've decided we would have been very good friends.



I love hearing stories.