blink.

i was searching the blogs i read (google is my best friend) for "wedding gift." looking for inspiration.

instead i found this.

on trust.

i think God has it out for me, in an amazingly good and scary way. there's this thing He does. He pushes me out past the point where i'm comfortable, out where i think i can't make it. and while i wrestle His grasp, hoping to break free so i can go back to where i think i should be, He holds me safe. firmly. yet gently.

eventually, i get the picture. i settle. i trust. and i get comfortable again, in this new place that used to be scary. i decide it's not so bad - in fact, it's just right. it must be the place i'm supposed to be. (i desperately try to avoid thinking that i have "arrived," because i know that's just asking for it. but i do think that. more often than not.)

that's when He pushes me again.

it's been going on for a while, this cycle. it's repeating itself right now. i so get david's prayer, his impulse to flee to what has been his comfort even while he knows that God is bigger. he knows.

and i know. so i'm seeking to trust.

kid's songs, buttercups, and blog make-overs.

you know the song teddy bear's picnic? (it's one of my grandmom's signature songs.) i must say that i can not help grinning now that i'm sitting here listening to it.

but back to my point. "if you come out to my blog today, you're in for a big surprise." the key word here is "big," because i did all sorts of crazy things with html code and the result is that my blog columns are wider. (see these instructions, which i used selectively.) mainly, this is important because it means bigger pictures.

it also means that emily may write a post about nothing just to express how tickled she is with it all, adding a completely unrelated photo solely to prove her point. what can i say...if you are reading this, you must love me. :)

::news flash::

there is, apparently, a lizard loose in my room.

a member of my household witnessed this lil' guy's disappearance underneath my bed and had the notion that i should find him (in order to make my room, and thus the house, lizard-less).

i have a twin bed. and i utilize every cubic inch underneath. pulling it all out...well, it's not something i do too often.

seven (large) containers and a few random baskets later, the space is empty. completely empty.

no lizard.

i guess this guy has mad skills pertaining to invisibility. because he has yet to be found - which is why there is, apparently, a lizard loose in my room.

i thought you all should know.

manifesto.

i'm supposed to be writing a paper, but i would much rather scribe a spring/summer manifesto. these days have me dreaming...of:

}eating watermelon.
}going barefoot.
}waking up to the summer sunshine streaming through my window (the equinoctial shift makes a huge difference in my bedroom).
}cooking potato salad. (lots.)
}working up some good sweats.
}running outside again without freezing my lungs.
}wearing flip-flops and anklets and snazzy toenails...
}and breezy skirts.
}putting my (now long!) hair up.
}being outside. a lot.
}soaking in the sunshine.
}waterfights.
}water in general.
}like the lake. and tubing. and wind in my hair and the sun-water-tired-and-good feeling after a day of it.
}favorite summer meals. like: dilled chicken (pasta) salad. and hamburgers. basil pesto.
}driving with the windows open.
}walks in the woods.
}picnics. (with above food, of course.)
}day trips to the beach.
}longer trips. to favorite places, or to favorite friends (and sometimes, both.)
}ice cream. or snow cones.
}ooh...root beer floats.
}putt-putt. (my brother would laugh that i'm actually looking forward to it this year.)
}i could go on. but i think you get the idea. :) i have no plans to waste one bit of these spring and summer days. come dream with me.

broken and beautiful.

I sit here, the comfortably heavy feeling that follows a hearty meal flowing through my body just as the sunlight still floods the world outside my window. The days are lengthening, expanding into summer.

Blossoms fade now, giving place to shiny green leaves that unfurl to the skies; stretching, reaching for the warm food of the sun. It is as if the whole world opens.

Yet blown on the soft breeze are the fallen petals - pieces of yesterday, reminders of the pattern of growth - the death that precedes new life.

And even those broken things are beautiful.

the seventh edition.

(because i had to wait for the dogwoods to blossom.)