*Break Pause*

I wish I had the right words to say to those who are hurting this holiday. 
How do you comfort, when the heart is peacefully hurting?

I don't think things like "I'm supposed to be big and round right now." I don't think things like "all I want for Christmas is to be pregnant."  I would love to still be pregnant, but, I am at peace that it is not to be right now.  

To those who have had a love one leave this year, I'm so sorry.   This is such a time of joy and tears, as happiness and smiles fill the air, outlining the ones that aren't there.

All I hear in my mind is this:
"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change."
James 1:7

He does not change.   He is not a good God one day and an apathetic God the next.  He is God and He is Good.

“Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the great Lion." "Ooh" said Susan. "I'd thought he was a man. Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion"..."Safe?" said Mr Beaver ..."Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”

He's good. He's the King.


Verse Source 
Quote Source

Move South, Young Ma'am!

Guess what?

Somewhere and Didge are moving.

We're moving to a new-to-us town about an hour and a half away.

We covet prayers of provision and guidance as we follow

our hearts promptings.

Sad side:

I will be breaking from blogging til the first of the year.

Have a safe and happy Christmas!

P.s.

Be looking for the new blog name and look in Jan/Feb.

My Hearts - Explained

I was looking through my saved/locked texts.  Yeah, my phone is that old that I have to lock text so I don't lose them when I frequently have to clear my inbox.  I had a text I saved from my brother.  Now he's the Costume Design Head (? Not sure his title) at his alma mater's theater department.  You need the context.

"Do you have the ability to measure a few parts of yourself right now?"

He was really just referring to the ability to take physical measurements.  Given the timing, this was a mere two days after I got home from the hospital, I instantly was hit by the wording.  That was one of the exact questions I had been asking myself.  And then, the answer was no.  Now I'm more prepared.

I've been thinking a lot about what I want in life.  What are some of the desires of my heart?

My mine desire is to glorify God.  

I believe God give us tons of other desires though, and those desires lead to the culmination of that most important of desires.

I'm going to kind of delve into my heart... and just like the sweethearts have a room, my different loves have different rooms in my heart.  I shall from now on refer to them as my hearts.  It's just simpler for me that way.  I feel the need to measure a few parts and find what makes up the whole.

I hope you'll join me.

:)

Gifts I've Been Given: 

#1: Words.

Question?

I'm formulating a goal/plan/schedule for how often I post.

Therefore, dear readers, here is my question:

Would you mind to take a minute to comment, either on here or Facebook?

Yes?
Great! Thank you.
Second question, if I may.

How often would you like me to update?
To me, I get bogged down when someone posts daily.
It's a lot to keep up with.  I know it only takes minutes to read a post, but, let's be honest, we are really picky about how long we're willing to spend on stuff these days.
But. This isn't about me... sorta.
How often do you like to read blogs?
Let me know... please.

Thank you!

my hearts - home

I have been thinking about being settled lately.

I moved houses a good few times as a child.  I didn't mind though.  Each brought a new adventure and new friends.  I have a fond spot for each home in my mind.  And that's just what they were, home.  My mom was a master of making a place home.  I never really thought about that before.  She was so gifted in bringing our family's aura/essence into our new quarters.  I never felt not at home. Never.

That is a gift I'm working on... can you work on a gift? I suppose you can.  I'm working on what makes home and what makes us.  By working, I don't just mean hanging up pictures (this is the first house I've done that in.)  I mean I've been mulling it over in my mind.

Somewhere and I have moved a grand total of four times in our four years of marriage. Each house felt more like home than the last.  That said, I haven't learned how to pack up, and then unpack, "home."  That thing that makes it where no longer how long you live there or what the dwelling looks like, it is home.   My heart has been seeking home.  It wants to sink into it like a warm down comforter, like the perfect garden hide away, the tinkle of wind chimes.  It wants to settle in.  I want to settle in.

End of part one of the My Hearts Series.

Please take a minute to answer the Question by clicking here: Of course, I would love to!

.A day for magic. (Partially written two days ago.)

Today is one of those days where you're just a bit bored of it all.

I went over to my grandparents this morning, just hanging out and working around the house.  I came home and I wanted to play DA2, but, the Xbox was occupied.  Thus, I did what any sane person would do.   I cleaned the living room and organized all my magazines.  Doesn't everyone do that when they can't play?
Now I'm just bored.

I'd love a day without all the things only adults worry about.  I'm disenchanted with dealing with bills, cleaning, silly humans, jealousy (on my part), clocks, mirrors, and responsibilities of really any kind.  Is anyone really enchanted with any of that? Well no, but that's not my point.

It's a day I wish my vices weren't just that, vices.
I'm in the mood for copious amounts of sugar, dark, dark chocolate, whiskey (let's not get into everyone's views on alcohol), and smoking under comfy blankets on the back porch.
Again, I merely said I'm in the mood for those.  All of those are vices of mine, things I desire.  Okay, dark chocolate isn't a vice, but it went with the rest.

More than anything, I simply want to be carefree for a while.  That's not really a bad thing.
The problem is when, as I used to be, I go to those things for comfort when they don't offer lasting comfort.  They don't fix problems long-term, in fact, a couple, (sugar, my face is looking at you) cause more problems then they are worth.

This isn't really a profound post.  Just thinking out loud.  The obvious profound message would be about Christ being the fulfillment of all our desires.  That is true. As C.S. Lewis puts it:

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”― C.S. Lewis

(2 days later)

I was in fact talking to a friend about the above tonight.  How just a few months ago, I went through the lesson of God being my number one source of satisfaction for my desire for love.  He, before all, including Somewhere, is my source of that need-meet.

I feel like I candy-coat my faith.  I hope I convey that these lessons were not easy. They included heartbreak, tears, angry yelling in prayer, not really at God but just at it all, and much pain.  I don't skip through life, giggling at butterflies and la-di-dahing how awesome my Savior is.  This faith of mine is hard-fought, fraught with my failures, dirty, real and alive.  It is God come to Earth.  It is Heaven in dust.  It is glorious.

thief.

This week was emotional.  I had been nice and mellow for a while and this week was not mellow. :) I could cry at the drop of a hat over anything.  Honestly.  I dropped a hat and cried.  Okay, not really.  So not honestly.

It was only makeup that saved me from being a blubbering mess at the Thanksgiving dinner.  I'm really hesitant to write this part because of the effect it might have on people around me.  As in, on them being around me.

Tonight, I found out someone is pregnant.  I am good friends with this person so I was thrilled for them.  I really, truly, madly, deeply was.

I also wanted to cry though.
I've been good with announcements until this week.  This week, they have brought tears to my eyes.  It's one of the side effects of pregnancy loss. (While I don't believe I 'lost', this is the title people relate with the most.)   Thankfully, I had done some intense eye makeup and I could hold it together thinking "well, you don't want to be a runny mess, O dummy of Not Wearing Waterproof." Sounds shallow, I know, who would place vanity against mourning pain, but, sometimes you do what you have to do.

I remember being on the other side of it.  I remember not knowing how the news of my pregnancy would affect (or effect? I still don't understand the correct usage) my friends who had gone through miscarriage or infertility.  I wanted to share my joy and, at the same time, not add pain. It's such a tricky, tricky balance.

It seems so selfish too.  How dare my pain diminish your joy.  Please don't view it like that.

You see, it was the taking of joy that broke my heart over and over and over and over again through this.  One of my main thoughts at the beginning of miscarrying after thoughts of Somewhere were "how can I tell my mom? How can I take this from her?"  I felt like a joy thief.  I felt like I was ripping away something precious and beautiful.  I was a destroyer.

I know it wasn't me.  If I had a choice, I wouldn't.  That isn't how it feels though.

The thing that kills me the most, that cuts my heart to shreds is remembering the joy.
My mother's happy screams at the news, my grandfather musing on "having a baby around the house again," my sweet young friend who would talk to Fruit Loop every time she saw me, and had told her parents she was going to be an aunt. (She quickly had to clarify she wasn't saying one of her sisters were pregnant.)  All I could think sometimes was "I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm so, so sorry."

There isn't words for being the carrier of such a knife.

The happiness from others gets replaced with awkwardness, sadness and worst of all, fear.
I feel like a death omen. Like everything a pregnant woman wouldn't want to think about.  That is a hard thing, I mean my name literally means joy. So many people call me "Joyful" as a nickname.

And that is what I am.  My joy doesn't come only from happiness.  It is from contentment and peace in knowing my Savior. To be known.  I may be sad, but, my joy is not gone.  My youngest brother reminded me, when talking about how an artist had sign something to a fan, loosely quoting here: "Life [really] sucks right now. But John 10:10."

"the thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. i come that they may have life and have it adundantly." 

{john 10:10 esv}

I am a follower of the God whose goal is life and life abundant.  I cling to that.

Therefore, while I totally understand the awkwardness, please don't be afraid of your joy.  Don't block us out of the joy out of fear.  I may cry, but know, it will not be tears of pain alone. It will be tears of great rejoicing.  I don't want to be the taker of joy anymore.

I love your joy.

Fight On

You know, I thought about titling this post "Stand" because that will be the end point but the thought that's been in my head is "Fight on, keep fighting, what is your other option? Give in and give up? No. Fight on."

Life is what it is.  I don't think it in itself is either hard or easy.  It's all part of where you are.  It's part of your journey so why worry which difficulty level it is set on.   I've been a bit under the weather and I've been playing Dragon Age 2 while I rested.  It's my first RPG.  I really do love playing it.  That, however, is not my point.

Sometimes, I have to step back if a really hard level has just beaten me over and over again. Ironically, that is where my life is right now.  You take down one thing and a bigger beast steps up.  It can get tiring and overwhelming.  After each battle, you take a step and regroup and pick up the goods and go on.  Some days though, in life, it doesn't seem like there is much stop.  One bill gets paid and you get the call about the next. You get a victory in one area, just to uncover a greater one elsewhere.  It's exhausting emotionally and spiritually.

Lately though, I just keep saying, "Keep on. You will make it out. Keep pushing, keep fighting."

I've never been good at that.  Seeing things through to the end, fighting for the success.

The thing is, I can't win.  Not by myself.  I can't face all life throws at me. My devo has been reminding me every day to refocus on Christ.  In the moments when life is too much, talk to Him, about the problem or not, and it will push that problem to the back in importance.  He can handle it.  He can give you the words to say, the strength to hold strong and the arms to hold you.  He is strong and mighty. There is no one who loves me as He does. (That's a post for another day.)

All He asks over and over in scripture is that we obey, love and stand.

So stand, and in doing so, Fight On.

Source

Baby Blogger

I feel like I am such a baby blogger.  Not in the fact of I blog about babies, just in that I am so young feeling to it all.

I would be lying if I said I don't want to become a successful blogger.
I thrive off comments and views.
That's the trashy truth.
I can get where I check in too many times a day to see if people read.  You might wonder why I would share such a thing. Of course everyone wants their blog to be successful.  That's part of why you do this.  You want others to see your heart.

It's a hard thing. Its hard to constantly weigh your desire to reach out to others, to have them see your heart and feel your love, against a feeling of "am I doing this out of pride?"  I never, ever want to use What Happened as a way to get views.  That is NEVER the case.  I respect my sweethearts far too much for that.

I truly feel God calling me to be a voice to women (and men) who go through pregnancy loss, even this early in my own grief.
I was asked at a ladies' retreat to give my testimony, and I knew in my heart that it needed to be on what happened.  I didn't want to.  Just because I'm a talker (I found out I'm a Sanguine personality... we're not happy unless we're talking) that doesn't mean I like sharing emotions.  I hate crying in front of  others.  It's so naked feeling.  I would rather talk about awkward stuff, something dumb I did, anything! Anything! Anything but to share where I feel broken.
In my begging God to let me out of it, He spoke to my heart: "I didn't do this to a Sanguine so she'd keep quiet."
For some reason I feel an extreme need/drive/desire to speak out. It's more than speak.  Its that my words could carry my heart and envelope other peoples' hearts with the knowledge that someone else has been on a similar (but not identical) road and is there.

All that said, this isn't all I am.
This is not the extent of my being.
I want to be able to continue blogging for a while.  Sometimes about What Happened and other times just about whatever else is making up Didge that day.

On a side note: Be watching for the blog upgrade.  I have chosen a name. :)

Okay.

I've been missing from here for a while.  I had a ladies' retreat last weekend and it just knocked me on my be-hind (because I need you to say it that way in your mind.)  I have since managed to join a lovely sore throat and stuffed up nose to this being of mine.  They are welcome to leave any day now.

I've also been pretty okay lately.

Today is 6 weeks.  It hardly seems possible that it has been that long.  I haven't broken down crying (except during the ladies' retreat) in a week.  There is nothing at all wrong with crying, I have embraced that release, I simply haven't.  I've thought about it.  I've thought about many things that should have made me cry, but nope, not a tear.

I think in part it's because I know it won't change anything.  I still miss those sweethearts.  I still mourn. I just know that dwelling more than I need to isn't going to change anything.  I can't live in that moment.  There isn't life in the past.  To me, a big part of life is the unexplained and unexpected. That doesn't exist in the past.

I don't know how to best put it in words.  I feel like all that was very jumbled.  The basic: I've been gaining some closure.
A friend recently asked, after me reassuring him twice that I meant it when I said I was really doing well, how long it took me to get over it.  I told him I would never really be "over it" but that doesn't mean I'm not okay.
I have found so much good in this, a couple new roles, and I have peace and so therefore I'm really okay.

I'm okay.

The Room

I've been thinking a lot about my heart.

This past week I've been really busy, with work and art for a ladies retreat.  I have had gloriously messy  hands at least three times.  That is a good, good things.  Put a messy medium in my hands and let me create and I'm happy.  Remind me to tell you about my daydreams.

Since my time has been so full, I haven't had as much time to think about anything else, including the sweethearts.    I was musing on that fact the other day and I was struck with a visual.

Picture my heart as a house.  When I found out I was pregnant, my heart was full.  Sunshine and laughter filled every corner.  It was like sitting outside, soft, warm summer sunshine bathing in the green of the leaves on trees surrounding you. It was magical.  Every one of those special "momma smiles" seem to hang on the walls, like so many portraits.  Friends and family are welcomed in, each leaving a note or present.  Even so, there is really only your husband and you and them. You hold them, dance with them and try not to fear over what you will never be able to control.

And then it's different.  The rooms get grey-ier. All hope isn't gone, the colors just change. Laughter drifts out.  You find fingerprints on windows, but can't find the hands.  Its like when you walk in a room that was filled with people and now is suddenly empty and you laugh nervously, wondering what the joke is and when everyone will come pouring back in.

That all slowly changes. The glitter returns. You feel the absence, but it's not as strong.  You look around and notice a room.  Somehow, at some point, you've moved them there.

 I can't pinpoint when it happened.

I can still walk in the room and catch a whiff of sunshine, a touch of warmth.   There's a blanket, giggling and Amelia Bedelia books.  It's just now, they are in there for the most part, where I can visit without being overwhelmed.

I'll still step on the emotional lego from time to time.  That's okay though.  Just because it hurts, that doesn't mean it's bad.

His Words

Thursday morning, there was a new comment on my "A Long Goodbye" post.  

Somewhere doesn't really read my blog. I knew he definitely hadn't since all this happened. I was totally okay with this. This is my outlet, my way to process life.  

Thursday, though, he did.  He woke me up at 5 AM to let me read this comment.  

I felt I should share it.  I don't have a good segue. I asked him before I shared this. 3 weeks later, this is my husband's thoughts.  (He may actually write a "guest post" for me soon.)

I finally had the thought "I think I can read this now". And I have at 5am before going to sleep. And have cried. And wished. And hoped. But mostly cried. I didn't realize how hurt I still am. I've been trying not to think about it all too much. I've been distracting myself with tv, video games, web coding, and prop fabrication. Because of that, I couldn't see that I really haven't dealt with much at all.

It still sucks. Bad.

We will get through, but it still hurts. I am glad for our close family and friends... and our two wonderful/annoying dogs. They have helped so much.

Someday (hopefully soon) we can become ready to have children. My heart hurts not being able to share Star Wars and magic tricks with these. To see their faces light up when a quarter disappears and comes out of their ear. To hear them say, "Do it again daddy!" To see their faces when they find out that Darth Vader is Luke's father. I will get to share this with others, but not these.

Someday.

-Somewhere

You Gave Up Everything

River: I remember everything. 

I remember too much. 

And some of it's made up, 

and some of it can't be quantified, 

and there's secrets, and...

Simon: Hey, i-it's okay. 

River: But, I understand. You gave up everything you had to find me. 

You found me broken. It's hard for you. You gave up everything you had. 

Simon: Mei-mei, everything I have is right here.

You know, you can argue with me about how Jesus came for God's glory to be made great.  He did. This is truth.  You can talk me to death about theology. I find it has a place and I am not shooshooing it. 

There is something in this quote that screams Jesus to me ever since I was reminded of it the other day. 

He gave up his heavenly throne to walk the earth, God in dust, and instead picked up tools, bread and wooden death. He did so much and when he found me, He found me, us, broken. So broken.  He found His Beloved, His Bride.  She is broken, bruise and beaten down.  I've pictured it before, can I even look in his eyes? Me, who ran away as I was born. Can I even meet his eyes or do I look at them in blatant arrogance. No, it is shame. 

And He found me beautiful.

Just a thought. 

Honestly

Today and yesterday have been rough days.

I hate admitting the bad days.  I feel like I feel the thoughts of the people reading or hearing this. That they think "Oh finally. See, she's not okay.  She's finally cracking.  I knew she couldn't be handling this as well as she claims."
I said I would blog this journey honestly.  I won't sugar coat the bad days and pretend they don't happen.  I want this to be a blog that could one day perhaps help someone through this.  Making it seem like I never related to the bad moment isn't a way to do that.  I've never lied.  I've never pretended.  For the most part, considering it's almost at three weeks since home, I'm doing fairly well. I think. I honestly have felt really strong peace.  I have strength in me I didn't know was there.  I am "olden-ed" by this.

For me, this is what a bad day is:
I am tired, all the time.
Anything or nothing can send me to tears.
Praying to not have to say goodbye again anytime soon.
I am snappy.
I just want to have an excuse to punch someone.
I also want to just live in Somewhere's arms.
I don't want to talk or text.

I was analyzing it to Somewhere earlier.  I think my mind and heart have just reach the point where they say, that's it.  We've held back what we can.  We'll hold what we have, but, we can't do a lot more than that right now.  It's keeping your heart together is as much as you can do.  Dealing socially with people is a bit more mental taxation than you have in you at the moment.  I have had a harder time the past two days dealing with others' problems or even jokes.  I just can't. deal.  Not right now.

I feel like admitting this is going to send you guys running for a label.  I'm not headed for depression.  Physically, my hormones are trying to level. My heart is trying to level.

I want to curl in Somewhere's arms.
I want to sleep.
I want to watch stars.
I want a campfire on a beach.
I want to be alone (with Somewhere) and get away.
I want to lose myself in music that lets me mourn.
I want to let myself hurt.
I want to melt and pour out.

Life calls though. It asks me not to slip too far away.  It wants me to work. It wants me to be human. It reminds me to stay just busy enough.

Don't be scared for me.  I will be me again.  I'll be a different me. I will heal, with a beautiful scar to remind me that there is a plan I can't see.

I just have to go through a bad day or two.
I will make it through this.
As a friend reminded me, it's not about the destination, it's about the journey.

 Capt. Mal: You think she'll hold together? 

Zoe: She's torn up plenty, but she'll fly true. 
 Capt. Mal: Could be bumpy. 
: Zoe: Always is. 

"Serenity" 2005

Yesterday's Memory

featuring:

pink and grey--
a discovery--crying--proof

shiny mail--sunshine--tinted nails

quiet--star wars

a man and two dogs

I've been reading the book "The Book Thief", as I mentioned two days ago.  Each chapter starts in the above format.  It's so interesting because it gives you something to piece together, words to look for. Like pink and grey, in the story, would be eloquently (one of my favorite words) pieced into a story of me, busily cleaning the pantry, drinking morning coffee.  I never have been one to wake up and drink coffee.  That has changed. 

pink and grey.

 I was gifted a Keurig by a dear sweet friend in NC the Saturday before all went upside down.  I have to admit, I love it.  There is so little clean up.  I'm a lazy coffee drinker, unless I'm in the mood for the motions of coffee making, I hate all the steps and the clean up. Its the total truth.  There is one of my flaws. I'm a lazy coffee drinker.  Thus. The Keurig is perfect for a first-world person like myself.  I got up yesterday with the strangest urge to just go make a coffee, sit quietly and dwell.  I made the coffee.  That part of the plan happened.  Then I was suddenly hit with the desire to clean the pantry.  

I went in to try the Pinterest idea of using a soda can box as a way to store canned goods. (It would work with Campbell's soup cans, but, not veggie cans.)
After that fatal step, I couldn't stop tidying it! I was just cleaning because I simply had to clean.
I am not the cleanest person in the world, that said, sometimes I just have to clean.
I took the computer into the pantry and turned on the new P!nk album on Spotify.  There may have been booty dancing while I cleaned.  The pantry now looks awesome, as does the laundry room.

That story, is not where pink and grey come in.
They come in as the cover and the holder of my little book. The shield for the Kindle, which has not yet been named, is hot pink.
Would I ever in my life pick up a hot pink cover?
No. I would not.
Thus I am so glad I did not purchase this cover, because I adore it's pinkness.  I wouldn't get that joy if I had gotten it. My Kindle, the book holder, is grey.  Not quite so eloquent, eh?

Goodness, I have signed up for a lot of words.

a discovery.
When you go to the health department to have a pregnancy test, they give you the test in a sealed bag, if you want. It's not gross or anything.  Well, I kept mine, of all places, in a cabinet in the laundry room. The laundry room that I was cleaning yesterday. When I went to put away some rags, there it was. A little orange striped bag containing a small white rectangle. I took it, and threw it in the trash.

crying.
As you can imagine, that sparked a moment of raw emotion. I remembered the joy, the moment I was told that the home test wasn't wrong, I really was pregnant. My mom was with me. Oh how many steps she's taken with me.
Now, that object didn't bring joy.

proof.
In a startling thought, I realized I had just thrown away my last proof, other than a piece of paper, that I had in fact been pregnant.  I couldn't do it.  I needed it.  I needed that proof.  I dug it out of the trash, and placed it back in the cabinet. I will figure out the next step later.

shiny mail.

A sweet, sweet old friend of mine, who I actually met online and then had as a bridesmaid in our wedding, sent me an adorable Firefly sticker.  It will go on the case of my phone whenever I get an iPhone again.  Until then, it will keep me company here at my desk.  I'll add a picture and you'll see why it's shiny.  Or maybe you already get it if you are a Browncoat.  I love it and it gives me happy sighs.

sunshine.
Due to needing to leave the house for a little while, we went to town and purchased some foods for dinner. Which we ate in a church parking lot, then sat, dogs in back, and read or played. The sun was brilliant yesterday. As usual. Heh. We just could see it well.
Autumn has hit with a delicate, cold kiss. The leaves are blushing red, while others have paled yellow. Winds brush hair aside. Chill has run it's icy fingers down my spine.  It all just makes me want to cozy down with a hot drink in the nestlike arms of pillows and blankets.

tinted nails.
My mother let me raid her nail polish for a nice fall color. I ended up with "Fearless Fog" and "Thinking of Blue" by Sally Hansen.  I sat, while watching tv, and soaked my hands.  Lamentably, I tore a cuticle .. somehow. I've been tea tree oiling it so hopefully that will bear nice results. I, then, proceeded to carefully paint each nail. There is something nice in the thickness of nail paint. My index fingers received the blue, and the rest, the fog.
I can say this, an exceptional gift for someone hurting is to do their nails.  I requested a friend come over and paint nails with me when she asked if I would like a visit.  I felt so not pretty and just needed to have pretty toes.  I have no idea why.
She came, and as is her fashion, went above and beyond the request.  She filled two pans of warm water, soaked my feet, rubbed them with creams, scrubbed off dead skin. She loving dried them, lotioned them and then finally, painted them. I text her later that I felt loved and luxurious from my toes to my heart. I love my lowercase friend.

quiet.
Despite the music and the cleaning, neither of which stopped after the pantry and laundry room, the day had a beautiful quiet to it.  Somewhere and I both had the day off and spent a lot of it on projects and each other.  Just in being near. Even the weather felt quiet. Our roommate had work in the evening.  It was simply quiet.

star wars.
I told Somewhere that he was amazing.  He said "I know." His typical response to such a statement. I told him that I now understood he was quoting Star Wars in that.  Sort of like "As you wish" from one of our other favorite movies.  I hadn't realized that was what he was quoting until I saw a pair of cups that said "I love you" on one and "I know" on the other with a title of being a Star Wars nerd.
Star Wars is very important to Somewhere.  I like the movies, I've RPG'ed in the world.  I don't remember many stellar details from it though.
I love Somewhere, truly, madly, deeply. I know that stellar detail.
 Therefore, I uttered this:
"Can we rewatch the movies and you point out what is really great about the different moments?"
Of course he said yes.
Last night, we started the rewatch with Episode One. Can I deny that I, despite great determination not to, fell asleep in the last bit? No. No I cannot.  I do understand more now though. Today, the rewatch will continue.

a man and two dogs.
This sums up my companionship for yesterday.
A man and two dogs.  I have received so much from all three.
A man who is there for me, constantly.  He has been such a shelter. I have not the words to really describe what he is to me. It's simply more.

Two dogs.
One who knew something was wrong when I got home from NC and wouldn't come near me. Very unlike him (He also knew before I did that I was pregnant and started being very protective and careful around me.
That all changed when I got home from the hospital the second time.  He didn't leave my side.  I would lay in my living room bed and have a warm monster of a beast pasted to my side.

The second beast, my darling girl, she is my pale shadow. I wake with her head next to mine, her tail always wagging from just a meeting of eyes between us. She and I are just meant.

Those three, and no more, yesterday did my heart need.

Carrying Nothing

I really love the artist P!nk. She is a secular artist, so she isn't for everyone.  Personally, I'm a big fan.

Physically, she inspires me.  I haven't felt up to it yet this week, but, next week, work out starts.  It's time for a healthier Didge.  I was talking to Somewhere about it and I said "you know, it's not just that I want to look good. I do want to get in shape and add to my confidence about my body.  It's that I was just in the hospital for something I couldn't prevent.  I want to make sure I do my part to not end up there for something I could prevent."
Body wise, I don't hate myself.
One of my regrets, being honest, was that I hadn't lost my baby weight when I got pregnant.  I wanted to be in the best shape possible.  I wasn't. (And no, that didn't contribute, to my knowledge, to our miscarriage.)  That doesn't mean I don't feel beautiful.  I know improvements can be made but that doesn't make me ugly.  As Da Vinci said, "Art is never finished, only abandoned."  I think beauty is the same way.  Just because it's not left alone yet, that doesn't mean it isn't art.
All that said. Didge is getting in better shape.

P!nk's newest song "Try", which has amazing fight dancing in it, has some lyrics that have gotten stuck in my mind.

"Where there is desire
There is gonna be a flame
Where there is a flame
Someone's bound to get burned
But just because it burns
Doesn't mean you're gonna die
You've gotta get up and try try try"

Ain't that the truth.
It makes me think about how fire purifies gold.  Pain isn't always bad... and it isn't without it's necessity.  Pain physically tells you when something needs attention or help.  I think it's the same for our soul.


On another note: today I was thinking at work about how I'm never without the thought of what happened.  It was an odd thought.
It literally hasn't left my mind in two and a half weeks. It doesn't matter what I'm doing, I feel it's presence constantly, a nagging awareness in the back of my mind. I don't want to forget, that's not my goal.  I just know one day, they won't be at the front of the back of my mind.  It's like I'm carrying so much in my carrying nothing.

It is amazing how heavy a burden nothingness can be.

The Good, The Bad and the Kindle.

I took a break from blogging the last couple days.  I just didn't have much to say.  I've started back to work.  That's going rather well.  I've yet to burst into tears or do anything insane...r than normal.

Seeing as I am wanting to do this every day, or at least every other day, some days are just small nothing "here's how life is" moments.  Those I'm not as likely to share on FB because I don't want to seem like an attention hog.  Do I over think things? Definitely.

Side note, since I got a Kindle, I've taken a little break from my "only read the Bible" quest.  I know, I know, doesn't this seem like the one time I do need to only read my Bible.  I get that.  I just felt okay/at peace about taking some time to do what I call Bubblegum Reading. A lot of sweet, doesn't last long, and not a lot of substance.  That said, the books I have read haven't really been that light.  Right now, I'm reading The Cover Up and The Book Thief. They are both rather good.

Somewhere and I were talking tonight in the car about how we were doing and what not and I brought up how people will use the word "mad" and "angry" about what happened.
{If you have been one of those people, you are totally okay and right to use those words.  This is not AT ALL in condemnation of those words.} 
Many people say things about how it's okay to be angry with God or to ask why.  It's okay to be mad. Others have said sweet words involving the brokenness of the world we live in.

I understand those statements.

The strange thing is, overall, Somewhere and I aren't mad.  He said "You know, not once have I really felt mad or like asking God why."
We hurt and ache.  We long with empty arms. We just aren't mad.
I know who my Savior is.
I know who designed my body and who holds the power of life... and death.
I know there is a level of death being caused by the Fall.
I don't believe though, that Satan or anything "evil" had a hand in our miscarriage.
God did a marvelous job of designing a woman's body to carry children.  He also designed it to know when a baby wouldn't make it and that the body didn't need to carry on with a pregnancy.  That's perhaps a hard thing to handle, but it is what it is.
I do not blame evil.
I have asked God why in brokenness, but, I didn't really expect an answer.
I told Somewhere that I don't think I could comprehend the answer, it would be too big.  Also, if I can't accept what I see as bad as a way for God to work good, what is that point.  Am I only to accept the good and not the bad?

I once had an art teacher tell me I was gifted in art because I could accept my flaws.  I didn't just get upset over messing up, I turned it into something else.  Many of my accidents were some of my greatest, strongest pieces.  When I started drawing, did I forsee that? Nope. Looking back though, I do.

God does not make mistakes. There is nothing He does not see.  What I see right now as something going wrong... well, that could very well be part of one of the greatest and strongest piece of me.

Just a little update

I'm trying to do this daily.  Mostly so I have something to look forward to as a way to release.  It also helps encourage me to think about what happened and how I'm going forward with Somewhere, in small chunks, every day.  I guess in a way, it's how I remember/honor those sweethearts.

All that said, tonight we went to Wal-Mart.  Several things made me simply miss them.  That's all.  I'm not mad or bitter.

I just miss my sweethearts.  It's hard to miss someone you never met.  I do though.  I really do.

Voice

Today has been a big mixture.  It's one week since I arrived home from the hospital.  That's a weird feeling.  I still have bruises on my arms. I'm easing into the things pregnancy asked me to put aside for a while. Things like drinking caffiene, not getting dizzy and sushi.  Okay.  So I haven't had sushi yet.  It'll happen.

While it has been a long week, things are starting to feel uncomfortably normal.  I'll be returning to work Monday.  In fact, I went into Staff Day today. I wear normal clothes out. (We all have sweats days.)  I don't have too strict of a list of things on my "don't even" list. Life is awfully closer to normal.

Part of normal for me is watching The Voice.  I love, love, love this show.  I don't really know why. I love singing. Thats part of it. I love how it gets out your feelings in a way that is really hard to compare. I can easily dream of standing up there, pouring out my overflowing soul.   Am I a nerd? Oh definitely. I get hardcore into it. I sit in my living room and in my car... Don't lie. You turn it up for the drive. Anywho, I sit in those scenerios and think what song do I enjoy that also summerizes me? I get so legit into it. Watching it tonight, I started thinking about it again.

Some days, I'm "Feeling Good." That will forever be a favorite.
I have my "The Fighter" moments.  (This one has language in it. Somehow, that didn't mean God didn't use it to give me a message that brought me to tears.)
I had a time as a 19-20 year old where I thought my heart couldn't be anymore broken by a boy. I sobbed my loneliness late at night where God impressed on my heart that tears speak. He didn't need words to understand what my tears said. I melted into that embrace. Thank God for that heartbreak. Therefore, "All Around Me" has a special place as well.
I am reminded of Christ's love everytime I hear "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", a fact that makes me chuckle.

The song that summed up my heart two weekends ago, that one is simple. "10,000 Reasons" by Matt Redman.

It is amazing that God gave us the gift of music.
Here's my question: What is a song that you think suits me?
Better yet.

What is your song?


LYRICS
Feeling Good
The Fighter
All Around Me
Ain't No Mountain High Enough
10,000 Reasons

EXTRAS
32 Flavors
Who You Are
Superhero
All My Tears
I'm Not Alright

The Guy

I've noticed something.  While people do mention him, a lot of times, a husband in this situation gets put off to the side by others in their rush to comfort the wife. Now, in our case, a lot of people have taken time out to make sure Somewhere is okay and to look out for his needs too.  I really love that about our friends and family.

The dad has lost something precious here as well. Somewhere will admit that the thought is true that a woman becomes a mom the moment she learns she's pregnant, the man becomes a father when he first meets his child. That doesn't mean he isn't dreaming as well. Things like watching Star Wars with them for the first time, creating Lego masterpieces, having someone crawl in your lap while you work.

Secondly, while as a woman, my first thought was trying to keep those babies safe, the man, his thoughts are first for whether or not I was in danger.  He has two people on his mind. Somewhere couldn't feel what I felt. He just knew things were not as they should be and he couldn't do much about anything.

The guys feel the need to protect, to be strong, to hold it together. They bear so much, so quietly most of the time, and yet get so forgotten.

Therefore, my advice: pray for the guy as well.  Find out their favorite snack, play a video game with them or just give them a hug.  Again, our circle have done so well with this. This is just my thought on whenever you are dealing with a couple's loss.

He hurts also.

Under

I am not really sure what to say today.

Some have wisely informed me to not try to heal too fast.  Don't push it.  Oddly enough, that was exactly what was on my mind.  A feeling of am I truly being genuine in this?
 I'm not going to try to slow healing either, but, I never want to present false strength.  That would simply be prideful.

This really does hurt.  Tonight, my heart feels so empty with the loss of my sweethearts.  I long for a daughter.  I know there is a chance Somewhere and I will have children later.

I don't understand it all. Some moments I don't understand it at all.

Tonight hurts.

Woman.

I have never really identified with the idea of being called "woman."

 I am totally female and all, heh, it was jut the concept of being called girl, young woman, lady or woman.  I had a hard time thinking of myself as being a woman.

That has ended. Something about going through this has forever altered my mind.  I'm a woman, I won't be going back. I can't explain why. I don't feel more mature necessarily. It's like my soul is deeper. That sounds lame but it's the best way I can say it.

I was on Pinterest today and someone had a Motherhood board and my first thought was I'm just not ready for that.  Then I looked again and it was like something whispered to my heart that pain doesn't make it not beautiful. Motherhood is still a beautiful precious gift. 

I feel like Somewhere and I are grown ups now. He and I were talking about it last night and it's just made us grow up.  That's not a bad thing either. It just is. The world is more serious, the loves deeper, the good is more precious.

I plan to journal this journey for a while.  You'll read, if you continue, about the hurt and the heal.  I just feel that's how I need to do this. I hope none think I am trying to be all woe is me. For one thing, I could never be an entire band. Sorry. Music humor.
My intention is never to wallow.
You are under no obligation to read.
I just hope to find the Phoenix in all of this.

John 10:10

A Long Goodbye

This week has been one of the longest goodbyes of my life.

 If you dare post a single judgemental word on this post, leave the page and do not hit comment. There is no time or place for that.

I hadn't posted on here about it yet, not really sure why, but Somewhere and I found out Aug. 19th that we were indeed pregnant. I couldn't wrap my mind around it and couldn't wait to tell my family.

Right now, it is impossible to delve into all the emotions I felt.

I got the books, smiled, held my hand over my stomach for no reason other than to feel closer. I was never terribly sick, just weary and dizzy.  I stopped drinking coffee (often), I ate hummus like it was the last pack on earth, I muched ginger, heated lunch meat and thought froot loops were incredible.  I daydreamed about tan toes slipping into colorful booties. I wrote a journal, full of my goals for being a mother and what gender we thought she was. (Can you tell my guess?)

I had moments of fear. I had times of prayer where I would beg God to let me pray more than that my sweetheart would be safe and have His arms around them.  That scared me because I wanted my arms around them.  Being a bit of a pessimist though, I fought the fear and released trust to my precious Savior.  I do not regret that for a moment. I don't want to place fear in anyone's heart that trust is ever misplaced in Jesus. In this case, in love, He was preparing me.

I laughed inside when people thought the ideas of twins would scare me. When I wasn't scared, they would jump the number to triplets. In my heart, I had a feeling they weren't wrong with the first
guess.

I went on a trip to visit some dear sistas last weekend. We had fun and they treated me like a frail princess and I loved it.

Sunday I didn't feel totally okay, but, I thought I knew the causes and was relaxed. That evening I went to the ER, and after 11 hours, went back to the house with the diagnosis of a threatened miscarriage. I was 7 and half hours from my Love and a horrid cocktail of anguish and hope. My one happy thought, other than "this isn't over for sure" was this: I was pregnant with twins.  For some reason, that filled me with joy.

Monday, I finally got home and in the arms of my husband. We talked and cried and prayed. We prepared for the worst and hoped for the best.

Tuesday morning, my doctor said it was still a maybe and that she wasn't throwing in the towel. I was to come see her Wednesday. We called Somewhere's parents that evening and told my parents in our living room, along with my grandparents, who already knew. Somewhere had needed an ear as he anxiously awaited my arrival home.

Wednesday's appointment went as well as it could and we went home with very cautious hope. Perhaps this wasn't the end.

Wednesday night went very bad.
I knew it was over and my sweet babies were gone. My heart was broken, my body empty. I clung to Jesus, pleading for strength and wisdom.

We called the doctor above mine and he said as long as I didn't move into physical danger, to wait until morning to come in. I went in and all seemed normal for what I had been through. I thought it was at least over. My body could rest. While my soul was torn, my body was receiving relief.  My mom slept on the couch across from me, watching me through the night. (What would I do without her to rub my face when I am sick? Or Somewhere to hold me and say "Its okay babe, I know" when I cry for what seems like no reason.)

I was wrong about where I was bodily.

Thursday night, things went even worse. I cried and sobbed out not wanting to go back to the hospital to my mom. Then the moment hit where that wasn't an option. I was going. I said "call them. I have to go in." I have rarely been so happy as when I saw the EMTs.  Somewhere followed, arriving at the hospital before us actually.  I asked to see him. He was in shock. I held his hand and reassured him that I was in good hands.  He went back out with his mom, who came down with his dad, to be with us. Thank God for family.

Just about every step you can put a miscarrying woman through, I walked.  I'm not complaining. I was heavily drugged most of the time. I was under very watchful eyes that were doing the best they could for me.
I slept. I cried. I prayed. I smiled at my husband. I held hands. I was wrapped in love.

Finally, Friday afternoon, I was sent in for a d&c. I won't go into details.  Most people say it is hell.  It was such a wonderful gift for me.  I wouldn't have made it safely without it. I slept straight through it.  My sleep dr, as I called her, shared that she had been there five times and now had a beautiful daughter. Then gave me a drug to "make me not care." I told her thank you.


I awoke to family and a feeling of peace.

A peace.

I know some people think God is a crutch.

 I can honestly say, I have no idea how I would be here, emotionally and physically, without Him. It's not a promise of seeing my babies one day, because I don't even know that I will know them there. It's not a belief in a greater plan. It's not any cliche.

It simply is.  He is.

As Joel Goddard would say, I can no sooner explain it than to tell you what strawberries taste like.

contemplation

she’s amelia earhart and jane goodall and joan jett all rolled into one. 
she’s really great to work with and amazing. she doesn’t like the light of the business we call ‘show.’ she stays hidden, and that’s where she likes it. but she’s an amazing collaborator, and i feel like sometimes i have a map in my pocket that folds up and i pull it out and it’s bigger than the table, and there’s 1,000 places to go with her.
 tom watts on his wife and songwriting partner, kathleen brennan 



I would love to hear Somewhere describe me like this. "Amelia. Jane. Joan." What a mixture. :)

This week has been about as quiet as this blog.  Some and I have both been being "wooed", for lack of a better word, by our Savior. The house hasn't been perfectly clean, but, there has been a lot of peaceful, still moments.  We've definitely crossed a bridge. The cool spring breezes have been cleansing the air and our souls. It's been one of the best weeks of my life lately. :)

Source: longestacres.blogspot.com via Allison on Pinterest

Place Courage

Titus 2:3-4

English Standard Version (ESV) BibleGateway.com

³  Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, ⁴ and so train the young women to love their husbands and children,

Lately, I've been surrounded by a group of encouraging women.  There are a few guys, but, for the most part, it's been women. They lived out these words.  Don't get your panties in a knot either over how it's to teach them to love their husbands and children.  It's not saying "don't encourage the single." Calm down. They aren't all old ladies either.  They are older, but not old. They are a certain number of people whom my heart smiles to see.  These dears have been reaching out to me.  I see them finding the good in me.  I soak it up like warm sunshine.  These are ladies who remind me constantly that I am loved, cherished by my Savior, beautiful, creative and intelligent.  This may sound like the world's most self-centered post ever, but, it's one that's been on my heart.  I can't tell you how much their words have meant to me.  I get kind of surprised by love.  

Psalm 139:14 (ESV, Biblegateway.com)
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. 

 I find nothing wrong in remembering that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Not just me.  You are too.  We are all fearfully and wonderfully made.   This gets hard, as well, I don't want to remember that the people I view as evil are fearfully and wonderfully made.  I don't want to remember that God designed their every fiber.  He knew them.  I sit there and think "how can you possibly have made them?!"  Then I remember that He made me.  What stopped me?  I'm not saying I have all evil figured out.  There's a thing called "righteous anger", an anger at seeing innocence betrayed. Even so, I'm called to love my enemies.  That's hard.
  I digress.

Source: Pinterest

I don't take the gift of encouragement lightly.  I re-gift. At least, I hope I do.  I have people in my mind who will always get a hug when I see them, I remind them constantly that they are beautiful, people who you see courage bloom from at the watering of words, the sunshine of love.

Who needs, craves, and desires your love today?

tattoo

In the choosing of the name for the blog, which is still under way, I've been thinking a lot about words and their meanings.

I'm the kind of person who writes/draws on themselves with Sharpie.  People then ask, and often, if it is a tattoo.  I understand why they think it is one, I am the sort of person you would expect to have tattoos.

Strangely, I do not have any tattoos. There, rest your minds Mom and Grandmother. 

It's not that I do not like tattoos, I do.  I just never have found one that I wanted forever, other than a wedding band.

These facts are beside the point.  Heh, I'm sorry! I rabbit trail.

Occasionally the things I write are sayings I like or verses that touch my heart.  Often it's a simple thing I need to remember during the day, such as "love", "trust" or "focus".  When I read, I come across phrases and think of the way they would look if I tattoo them. I like to use it to remember things.  I can thinking back on them, it's like I have a book sunk in under my skin.  I like my secret tome, all my own and none others, not entirely.

There are other words under my skin, written in dirty ink, infecting, poisoning.  Mostly, I am to blame for these words.  I am not at all blaming anyone but myself.  (Seriously.  I know some of my family read this.  SERIOUSLY! Do not think you had anything to do with this. )  I have words, nasty, hateful, words that I see when I see my skin, myself, my world.  Things I've allowed to corrupt my eyes and mind, a dark dye that has spread to my heart, killing the way I see myself.  Sample words could be "less", "unworthy", "fat".  Again, no one but myself wrote these things.

I've recently realized this, this horrible truth.  Like Eustace in Narnia, digging deep into his dragon skin, I've been trying to tug it away myself, only causing more pain.  Then, two nights ago, with my husband's help, I realized the words, admitted them and made the step to being whole.  Christ calls me worthy through Him.  I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  It does no good to say the stain was never there, but, Christ is better than a laser treatment.

The reason I'm posting this is to ask this...
what words are you writing and accepting on yourself?

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UPDATE: I'm so sorry, I wrote Edmund instead of Eustace.  Thank you to my cousin for that spot!

what is in a name?

I was blown away at how many read my last post.  It was under 50, but, it was one of my most read posts ever.  I know view count doesn't matter, still, thank you.

Thank you for reading.

I'm very gracelessly trying to revamp the blog.  I'm also seeking out a new name.  I didn't complete the Blogject in the sense of blogging every day, though, I have stuck with at least semi-regularly updating a blog for over a year.  I'll claim victory where I see it.
All that said, I need a new name.  And look.  First a name though.

I'd like y'all's help with that.  I have some words in mind that I love, things that in my mind sum me up.  I need help putting them together.  I liked the name Gypsy Glitter, but, I'm just not sure it's right.  Here are the words though, put them together as you like or throw out some new ones.  Just please comment.

Art.
Beauty.
Belle.  (my mom likes to call me that.)
Christian.
Color.
Dye.
Faith.
Free.
Fire.
Glitter.
Gypsy.
Hippie.
Joy. <-- middle name
Ma Peau. ("my skin" in french.)
Passion.
Rainbow.
Simple.
Spirit.
Wild.
Wind.

Here are some combinations I like:

Wild Passion.  (Could be taken the wrong way.)
Gypsy Glitter.
Glitter Dye.
Dans Ma Peau. ("in my skin.")



I dunno.. help?

Thankfilled Thoughts

As some of you may have noticed, I have been reading "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. Her writing style is unlike any I have read before. She flows in and out of normal construction and into a beat poet prose. It took me a lot of time to get used to. I know its only 200-something pages, but, I've found myself savoring it. I read maybe a chapter a day, like a bite of fine chocolate. Somethings just aren't meant to be gobbled down. In fact, I'm not sure much is.

All that said, I keep thinking in her way. I keep having poems flow out of me, even about washing dishes. I had a fairly epic one the other day in fact about how wildness is often found in silence for me. It was gooood. Too bad I don't remember it. I think tonight, though, my thoughts are disjointed enough to try it out. I'm not sure how this will work in written form for me. Also, please remember I'm a newbie. I hadn't really experimented in this until I started reading this book.

*Deep breath* Here we go.

ghost fur curled at my feet
dog hyper finally asleep
mind is full of so much nothing.
center quiet despite all floating
memory
sound
thought
ebb and flow like wind in window
curtains covering, flimsy paper.
temperature, house, high,
filled with warmth of humans.
storm filled moments passed,
thunder roaring, lightening flashed.
atmosphere is clear, safe,
heart yet still unsure.
heat rises quickly meeting cool,
words like thunder, tones like lightening.

peace.

calm.

eye.

flashing, energy still palpable.
candle flickers here now later,
flame burns low, adding light not fire.
shimmers.
simmers.
gentle fragrance,destruction bringing beauty.
all to be gone by lights death,
sleep, sleep to fall,
awaken mercies.
Oh awaken mercies new.


Then end.

Wild Purpose Pt. 2

Back to Songs of Water and Wild Purpose.


I do believe some of the members are professing Believers.  There were touches of faith strewn throughout the lyrics.  What touched me though was that they didn't have to say they were Believers.  They lived it.  They had joy and peace.

Songs of Water - "bread and circus" from ben joyner on Vimeo.

The music was alive. It was live as well, but, it was alive.  Each member was deeply involved the instruments, rhythm and music.  Each played several instruments, jumping from piano to drum to guitar to hammered dulcimer.   Most were swaying to the music or clapping, if not shouting out when the moment overtook them.  It was enough to break your heart, sometimes with sadness and sometimes with passion.
It brought to mind one of my dream scenarios:  A gypsy campfire.

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  First.  I know that some people view "gypsy" as a derogatory term.  I am in no way using it as such.  I think gypsies are beautiful people and took a world that was harsh to them and made it magnificent.  I use the term with all the honor I feel is due it.




To the dream...


       A campfire with a sandy beach surrounding you.  A cool breeze blows, causing the grasses to swish.  As the floating embers of the fire dance their way to join the stars, tanned bare feet move to join the song.  Colorful gypsy skirts, long hair and pipe smoke all swirl around you, families laughing together, loves flirt across the fire, elders watching, remembering the fires and flames of the past.  Violins haunt you, then cause your spirit to rejoice. Drums as soft as your heart and as loud as the crashing waves.  The delicate rustle of a skirt, the melodic tingle of bells attached to ankles, earrings and hair, the thunder of clapping.  It's a maddening orchestra of delighting in the joy to be found in the world, the beauty to be celebrated.



To me, this is a vision of wild beauty.

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I want a faith that is earthy real.  I want to be a home that follows me wherever I am. I want to embrace all of the beauty God has placed in this earth.  I want to live a life that when I go to bed, I know I allowed God to move in me with all the freedom I can.

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I do not want the American Dream.


I want the Barbarian way.


I want to walk in the Way.


I want to move to the sacred dance.


I want Wild Purpose.

speak

.watch me.

(thanks to Lauren for this one.)

This is so powerful.  Seriously.  Don't expect this to be one of those Spoken Word things about marriage or anything like that.  It is still powerful.

Does it really matter how many views I have?  Does it really matter if people comment on my blog?  I reach out my thoughts to all my friends instead of specifically speaking into the lives of my friends.

That said, it's Valentines (happy for you I hope) and I have husband who I need to spend time with instead of this computer.

Love to you all!

Just a moment

I was planning to blog, but, working on a birthday present took precedence.   Therefore, I am just putting up a quick watercolor I did the other day with the awesome art set my Aunt M sent and some watercolor-filled brushes I had.

It's a girl with dreads.  Basically.

By Me

Birthdays and such

I was thinking this morning about birthdays.  This is the 4th birthday I've celebrated with Somewhere.  Its been an interesting journey, learning to blend traditions, start new ones and let go of old.  I have blogged previously about my family's extensive birthday traditions, therefore, I won't revisit them.

I was asking myself what mattered about birthdays, what is truly important about birthdays.  Am I childish in the way I view them? (I come from a background of on your birthday, you are royalty.)

I had a realization.  This may make me sound sad or depressed.  I'm not.  I was simply thinking about people in general.

Birthdays are important because life is hard.
Life beats on you.  It pushes until you don't know if you can take it.   It is a tragic beauty at times.  Daily I have people around me who feel they are failures.  We've all felt it. I know a certain reader is going to think I mean them.  I really don't.  I didn't realize dear, that you might think that until after I typed it.   We wonder about purpose, life and meaning.
Life is hard.

 Given this, birthdays are important.
It is the day where you know you matter.
Everyone should be made to feel they matter and make life better for those around them because they are in it.
Everyone needs a day where we forget the faults.
A day where we are not the sum of our mistakes, instead, we are celebrated for whatever is good.
It is a day for laughter, warmth and light.
Everyone is in this world for a purpose.
On a certain day, God decided it was time for that person to come out and breathe earth's air.
This day is a day to celebrate that purpose.


It matters.

Birthday Nails

Friday, oh Friday.

Friday was really, really busy.

Thursday after my awesome music experience, I felt like being natural.  I didn't want to add varnish to anything.   Therefore, that night, I took off the nail polish and left it.  I've been doing them each evening.

Friday got here and I was non-stop.  Friday night came around and I just didn't have it in me.  I needed rest.  Unfortunately, I didn't got to sleep til 4.  I did have a restful, fun evening with friends though.

Today.  Today I did my nails.  :)

I tried to keep it symbolic of the day. ("So what's the symbology there?")  I'm 25 today.  That's... strange and comforting.  I'm okay with it.  Perhaps even great.   I wanted today to show me.  I know its nails and they don't really matter, given how I was celebrating this week though, you'll be okay.

Anywho.  They are light purple with subtle sparkles and an accent of glitter overload. :-p  I don't plan to put aside my glitter and fun loving side.  I'm just planning to add a little mature to it.

Without further ado, the final nail design:

Sally Hanson - Hard as Nails "Python Purple"
Ms. Manicure "Clear"
N.Y.C. Extra Shiny Top Coat
Sally Girl Sparkle Effects-  Red (No longer available)

Wild Purpose, Pt. 1

It took two songs before this was the thought running through my head:
"Lord, what on earth are you trying to stir in me?"
For the past several days, I keep finding wild purpose.  I keep having my heart stirring madly within me.

Tonight Somewhere and I went to see Songs of Water at a college.  It was totally free, but, I would easily pay a considerable amount of money to see them again.  Playing with them tonight was Molly Skaggs, sister of Luke, a member of the band, and daughter of Ricky Skaggs.   Somewhere grew up listening to Ricky Skaggs, and thus, it was really cool that Mr. Ricky Skaggs was there tonight and played with them for one song.

Molly opened, beginning chill bumps that got a better work out in one night than most of my body had all week.  Her voice was haunting.  It was a folksy, Irish-y, mountain wonder.  I couldn't decide if I wanted to cry, run through the woods or curl up with a cup of warm tea (or cocoa) all night.  I think I wanted to do all three.  All at once.

I'm getting frustrated because I felt so much but I feel as though I am not saying this the right way.

She was real, raw and gorgeous.  Her sense of humor was adorable.  Her love of music was overwhelming.  I began to dream of blogging as I listened, trying to remember my thoughts while losing them to the music.
I have lost most forever.   It was interesting to me, since this was a "festival" highlighting Appalachia, that so many old time songs have death as a strong theme, and somehow, not an all together sad one.
The song "Railroad Boy" killed me though. Gosh.  So beautiful and so sad.

Then, when I thought my mind was already on the ceiling it was so wildly blown, on walks Songs of Water.  They said they had once been described as Exotic Pawnshop.  Tonight they said Appalachian Exotic Pawnshop.  That really does fit them.  It was literally one of the best musical performances of my life.  I couldn't help thinking this is one of the truest forms of worship I've had in a long time.  Which is strange since not much was said about God.

I was taken by the thought though that God made music.  He made this incredible gift.

My hubby man is falling asleep, so I will continue this tomorrow, but until then, may your heart's dream be alive with the fiery passion of our Creator.