protecting myself

I lean against a railing, lightly covered with snow and gaze across the Rocky Mountains. Wrapped in an extra blanket found in the closet of the condo four of my friends and I are staying in, I protect myself from the cold. The mountains...are breathtaking. My mind is blank as my eyes glide over the numerous trees dusted with snow. It seems only slightly odd to me that the scenery before me incorporates snow in May, but I remind myself this is Keystone. A whispy fog blocks my view of the peaks of these mountains, these mountains that thousands of skiiers came to enjoy only weeks before.

Everything is beautiful. The red colored neighboring condos, the vast sky, and other displays of God's artwork. I see the beauty, I know and understand the beauty...but I don't feel the beauty. I don't feel anything as I drive up to the mountains with the four girls I spent so much time with in high school. I don't feel anything as we check into the condo for a night of celebrating our graduation. I don't feel anything as the evening goes on, as the nightengale quiets and the morninglark chimes in. I feel nothing as we coast back down the mountains, back to our homes in Littleton.

I realized, and am finally admitting that I know nothing. I know who I am, because God tells me that in His Love Letter to us. But I know nothing more. I do not know His Plan, and I do not know it in the least. Everything I dream of, everything I long for, I do not know if or when I will finally acheive any of it.

I feel nothing. I know nothing. And I don't really know what to do about that.

I am raw, I am tired, I feel hopeless, and no, I am not happy. I wrap myself in blankets too often. But I don't protect myself from the wind; I try and protect myself from the unknown. Why can't I just throw this blanket aside and join the billions of other people in this world that admit they know nothing of the future either? Why can't I spread my arms, let the blanket fall off, and raise my hands to God and let Him take over?

I am a part of this field

I sit in this field
a part of this field
My spirit soars
a part of this field.

I see the earth stretch before me
stretching in the morning light
awakening from a warm night.

The miles of rustling grass
The red in yonder mountains
The crisp clouds above
All painted for us.

I am a part of this scene,
I am a part of this picture.

I feel God nudging me
with the morning breeze.
I feel God hugging me
with the rising sun.
I feel God

I know Him
I am a part of His picture
I am a part of His plan.

I am a part of His field
I will do as He wishes

I am a part of Your field
As You wish,
It will be done.

Now

When you think too much about wanting to change the world, you do no more than fret yourself. If you get caught up in how to do something big and important that will make a difference, you just get caught. You cannot sit and fuss over how to make the world a better place. Just live. That’s all it really takes. Just live your God-given life in a God-pleasing way. Your life is not like a river that you float down slowly, uneventfully with nothing ever happening until you reach the one giant waterfall, your one chance to make a giant change. There are whirlpools; there are logs and rocks jutting in the way. There are wild animals; there are fish jumping all around our boat. There is no need to lie back and let the current dully take you to the waterfall where you can finally do some good. There is no need, because things are already happening around you! There are people on the banks that you are passing by. You could help them now if you weren’t too busy waiting for your big limelight moment. Your moment to create change is not once. Your moment is not going to wait for you to reach a specific age, a specific financial state, a specific anything. Help is not specific. You need to sit up in your boat; we all need to sit up in our boats and not waste any more time looking forward to when we can make a difference. For change doesn’t only come with a giant waterfall; it comes with the slightest of tilts with your oar. It comes when we decide it comes. So let's decide upon now.

"Mess is the motor of creativity"

I realized why I don’t throw anything away. Everything is so beautiful. Everything is too beautiful to throw away. Too enrapturing to say, “Oh, this isn’t worth anything anymore” and dump it in the trash. Every cardboard box, ever trinket found in the street while going on a walk on a warm day, every clipping from a magazine – it’s all beautiful. I can’t bring myself to through away the Chinese fortune I found in my fortune cookie last year – the fortune that gave me hope during a really hard time in my life (it’s now taped to my mirror). My messy bedroom is filled with inspiration. The jumble of hemp on the edge of my dresser reminds me to find time in my schedule to do crafts for other people. A copy of a short story of mine lies on an old vinyl on the floor next to a pile of novels, magazines, and poetry books and encourages me to keep the pen moving and continue to pour onto pieces of paper. A giant collage of magazine pictures and quotes on the back of my door excited me about my future, my career, and the home I will have. My room is messy, my life can be messy, and I like it that way.

Narnia in Littleton

I was driving through my neighborhood today. The gutters overflowed with freshly melted snow. Not just a little trickle or a few melted snowflakes gliding down the path, but cold, icy water gushing down the street, spilling over the sides of the gutters moving fast. Fast fast, almost as fast as the water is cold. I was reminded of when Aslan finally returned to Narnia. The wicked queen had cursed the land with a bitter cold winter that trudged on unendingly. Then upon Aslan’s return, the snow melted in gushes. Green jumped out from underneath, as a track star does when the gun signals the start of the race. The freezing streams flowed down the mountainside and the hills. The melted snow rushed along paths and trails eager to release their once imprisoned energy. The arctic wind becomes a crisp but gentle breeze. Spring.

I drove through the neighborhood, my wheels being pulled slightly to the left and right by the mushy snow and ice on the roads. I looked at this Narnia in my neighborhood and thought about what is melting in my own life. What is my winter storm that has left me unendingly cold? I have felt these past weeks that something in me is melting. A wonderful, free and excited melting is occurring inside of me! Perhaps it is a newfound form of worship that lets me praise my Aslan in a way I never allowed myself to before. Recognizing God and celebrating every gift He gives to us. Perhaps it is my zeal for all in this life, and acknowledging from where it has come. Whatever is melting in me, all I know is I am falling in love with the spring and the One who brought it about.

No one controls the rivers. They flow with a mighty and boundless force. And yet, while they are wild and free, they still flow exactly on the path before them. I have confidence in where I am headed, and even though I cannot see around the river bend, I know that where I am going is full of excitement and passion.

Sawdust

Carried Bradshaw’s style definitely contrasts that of Aiden. Her high fashion style of boots and sequence tank tops drastically clash her carpenter boyfriend’s grungy jeans and (maybe) a t-shirt style. But they are just right for each other.

Today Conner took me backstage the theater where we hung out with his friends for lunch. With my hair all pinned up and four different colors on my eyelids, I sat in a sawdust covered chair. My dainty silk slippers tapped his sneakers to the beat of the music that resonated off the concrete walls. It was the first time I had been in “his school environment” as he has known it the last four years. I looked at Conner, relaxed in a splatter painted lounge chair surrounded by half-finished projects and felt peaceful at the sight of him.

An hour later I looked down and noticed I still had sawdust all over my new black dress shirt. I felt like Carrie just returning from Aiden’s carpentry workshop. My many gold bangle bracelets jingled as I wiped off the sawdust. I smiled and thought about how two so seemingly different people can go together so well. I smiled at how jeweled, freshly painted fingers fit perfectly in large, spray painted hands.

Vibrant Ruby

I wake up and grab my thick socks from the nightstand before letting my toes hit the chilled wooden floor. I cross the bedroom in two solid steps and enter the narrow hallway. In the kitchen, I heat up the skillet and whip up a quick egg. Fried with the yoke broken. Just the way I like it. A chime rings through the air and a piece of toast jumps up just in time. I sit at the tiny four-top, legs crossed under me on my chair, and I look five stories down to the cobblestone pathway. People are already buzzing about outside. My heart does a jumping jack and I rush into the extra bedroom. I had renovated the minute guestroom into a walk-in closet last autumn. Let’s face it; I have more clothes than I do overnight visitors. I push aside department store racks of pants, tank tops, summer dresses. Flipping on the stereo, I rummage through my wardrobe, the sun from the window joining me in my quest. I find the pair of denims I was looking for: dark, slender, just crisp enough to look more chic than the pair you wear every day. Twirling and fluttering around, I put together an outfit that perfectly fits my feathery and cheerful mood.

Pausing to look in the full length mirror, Coco Chanel’s words dash into my mind, “When accessorizing, always take off the last thing you put on.” I pull off the red and gold headscarf and shook out my long curls. Perfect.

I step out of my apartment and chirp good morning to the single mom that lives next to me who just returned from taking her youngest out to the playground at the nearby park. I decide to take the stairs as I glide a vibrant ruby across my lips.

My forest green heels hit the stone path and I lift my face to the sky. The sun kisses my cheeks and continues to hug my back as I mosey on down the street toward the marketplace. The delightful fragrance of fresh fruit stealthily captures my attention and I purchase a juicy pear from a vendor. Slurping on my treasure, I slip past bustling, talkative groups of people and pick up a pound of hazelnut coffee beans and a big orange ribbon. My lips form a smile as I imagine my neighbor putting it to use and needing the extra boost to help her out on those early morning park adventures. A little skip finds its way into my gait and my smile broadens even more as I look forward to the rest of this joyous day.

Twirling

When we kiss
On the clouds
I spin and twirl
And sing out loud

My toes dangle
In the sky
I flip and swirl
And dare to fly

My heart’s a flutter
When I’m with you
I dance and whirl
Up to the moon

Where We Walk

Where we walk
And where we’ve been
Cannot be judged
By the minds of men

Their ways, their laws
Every word and thought
Cannot take the power
For which they fought

They try and take over
Try to be in command
But they cannot control
That which they demand

So have no fear
And pay them no mind
Cast those worries
And troubles behind

They cannot touch you
So shed not a tear
If you desire,
They cannot come near.

Beyond

When will we voyage
beyond this world
and see see see
beyond the sky?

When will we journey
behind those clouds
and spy spy spy
with our very own eye?

Oh, to see what is past you, Sky
Oh, to escape your bearing
and fly fly fly…

I do this best when...

I do this best when…
I cook best when I make a meal for someone I care about.
I drive best when I’m fucking pissed.
I dance best when I don’t have to fend off creepy men.
I laugh best when I really enjoy the company.
I live best when I trust God.
I love myself best when I think about how much God loves me.
I run best when there is nothing on my mind.
I sleep best when I am sad.
I sing best when I’m in the car and can’t hear myself anyway.
I read best when I don’t have a care in the world.
I feel best when I make others feel good.
I get in trouble best when, oh wait, I don’t get caught.
I study best when, oh wait, I don’t study.
I write best when it is really late at night.
I worship best when I laugh.