questions I ask myself

Why do I tap my fingers incessantly? Usually to the rhythm of the last song I heard. Am I nervous? Or do I have too much energy and it creeps out of my extremities? 

Do directors always cast Tom Hanks in comforting roles because he is that way in real life? I find myself watching movies he's in when I am sick.  

Why do I constantly buy fresh ginger, only to let it wrinkle away in the basket above my microwave? 

Why do I not read for weeks and then I'll suddenly feel the urge and finish three books in a month? 

Why do I refurbish chairs I find on the side of the road, spray-painting them and wood glue-ing them, instead of buying sturdy new ones? 

Why did it take me two years to buy a white bandeau to go under the white dress I bought in Nashville? 

Why didn't I stick up for myself to the roommate who lost my seasoned cast iron skillet? 

Why do I like dark chocolate hagelslag so much? 

Why do I like the gentle petals of a cosmos in full bloom? 

how I want to raise my daughters

 

my mother at dusk on Sandbridge Beach, Virginia

Sandbridge Beach, Virginia

sunrise over Kure Beach, North Carolina

This is not a post to express resentment for how I was raised. Rather, I stand on the shoulders of my parents, and I know they did the best they could with what they were given. Nevertheless, if I have daughters someday, I want them to stand a little taller than me, going farther than I could. 

I want to raise my daughters to be sassy. Smart. Indignant towards injustice. 

They don't need to protect other people's emotions. They don't need to mask their true feelings with a sweet face that doesn't offend the other. 

I want my daughters to say 'no' whenever they want, and to know when they want to say that magical word. And to have the wisdom to know what is good for them. 

I want my daughters to recognize what they want out of life. And if there are barriers to get to where they want to go, I want them to have the strength and agency to seek the help they need to get past those barriers. 

I want my daughters to take up space, with their bodies and their voices. 

I want my daughters to see themselves as equals with men. 

I want my daughters to embrace not only their femininity, but also their masculinity. 

If my daughters want marriage and/or children, I want them to embrace these gifts without losing their sense of self and independence in the process. 

And if I want these things for my daughters, I better be pursuing them for myself, too.  

early spring

 

All around me, the earth is exploding in new life. Hues of greens in the trees and bushes. Japanese cherry blossoms, white and yellow daffodils, purple and red tulips, azaleas all over the place. 

But my life is suddenly empty. 

The contrast is stark. 

I'm grieving, so I'm reticent to fill it up right away. I want to leave space for this season to be what it needs to be. So I leave the tv off, I let my thoughts go where they will. And then, I pick myself up, dry the daily tears, and remind myself of what I know to be true. 

I am given the opportunity to trust.

To trust that all shall be made well. 

To trust that silence will give birth to song.

To trust that barrenness will one day produce fruit. 

And to trust that this time is not wasted, and I am growing even in ways I cannot see. 

I am not forgotten (and neither are you). 

things I've noticed that make me smile

 

every year my dad gives me a hibiscus bulb in the winter 

the chimes on my porch singing in the wind // the sound of M's voice on the phone // my cheap ikea clock ticking in a quiet apartment // when my mother laughs // an unexpected letter in my mailbox // joking around with my students // the smell of a new book // dancing, rock-climbing and walking in the woods // how cut tulips keep growing when you put them in water // liturgies from Every Moment Holy // a blind date coming up for someone I love very much // a few dates that already happened for someone else I love very much // the sunlight that streams onto my dining room table through the south-facing windows // a new year and new beginnings 

a prayer for healing

Prayer for the Social Order, from the Book of Common Prayer 

Grant, O God, that your holy and life-giving Spirit may so move every human heart [and especially the hearts of the people of this land], that barriers which divide us may crumble, suspicions disappear, and hatreds cease; that our divisions being healed, we may live in justice and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

// 

Since September of 2016, I have had this prayer written down as a draft for a post entitled "Black Lives Matter." 

It is roughly two weeks after the 2020 election between Biden and Trump. The outcome remains uncertain. And tensions remain high. 

My country needed this prayer back in 2016, when we were witnessing Trump run for the highest political office in our country for his first term. And we need it now, as our divisive incumbent president refuses to concede.                   

No president will be our savior. But a strong leader can influence a nation towards good or evil. If anything, Trump's polarizing speech has certainly exposed the deep ideological differences present in this country. 

Will these ideological differences continue to expand, eventually splintering our fragile democracy? My politically conservative father speaks hopefully, predicting that my generation will create a third party. One borne out of this mess, reconciling our differences and promoting true American ideals.  I pray he is right. 

grateful for all of this

July 2019 // L'abri in Eck en Wiel, the Netherlands

rhubarb bulbs from L. // biking 11 miles through First Landing State Park, treading through mud, the glassy water reflections of the bald cypress trees // the most beautiful illuminated Scripture journal from S. // C.'s hot, flaky, buttery biscuits straight from the oven // 5 o'clock walks, rain or shine // The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway // psalms set to music by a sweet couple from Kansas // time to work on my photo project, capturing women sans make-up // two packages on the same day, one with hair care and the other with photo books // respecting myself and communicating with friends and family today (difficult conversations and texts ensued) // finishing the insta page for my floral business, the Wildflower // teaching S. piano basics // the biggest hug from C. // planning my garden in the backyard sunshine // crying on the phone with my compassionate mother // venting on the phone with my compassionate sister // hope seeping back in

[all from Week 6 of quarantine]

an overcast spring walk

Walked outside twice today. Once before lunch after I'd been hunched over the computer grading assignments and listening to webinars. And again with my roommate and neighbor after work ended for the day. 

S L O W is the theme of life these days, for most of the world in quarantine (except for medical professionals working around the clock to fight this virus). COVID-19, why don't you slow down too? No need to hurry. 

"Hurry keeps the heart earth-bound." [Sarah Young] If that is so, then this halt of  all activity is opening our eyes to see what is eternal. It's not entertainment, not making money and finding security in finances, not going here there and everywhere. All of these are idols to the over-indulged, self-focused American. 

//

For the first time since last summer, I don't feel rushed. There are no looming deadlines. Yes, there are still daily expectations for work and caring for myself, but nothing pulsing in the back of my brain. I take my time cooking curried chicken and laughing with my friend. I return to the macrame wall hanging I started over two years ago and never finished. Making bread and tending to my plants and praying more and listening most.