sigh, gurgles and giggles

Have you ever just pressed your face against the top of a baby's head and taken in the scent of it? Laughed and smiled widely at the gummy, slimy look a teething 6 month old gives you? Been perfectly happy to be spit up upon? Practically begged with loving eyes to relieve the mother of rocking for a while?

Such is my nights at women's group. Not only do I get to drink tea and talk about Jesus with other women who love him just as much, but they often bring their babies.

Madrone is 6 months old and THE CUTEST little boy with which I have ever had the pleasure of giggling and making silly faces.

Babies smell like Heaven. They're soft and cuddly, and precious.

Well, I was going to visit Jackson Pond again today because the mist of the clouds we live in must have been divine on the black water, reflecting the falling leaves. Alas, it is raining with a 90% chance of thunderstorms and a severe tornado warning covering the deep south. I guess God's answer today was no. Ok. :)

Sepia Toned Lovin'

'twas on a boat. merry merry

Dr. Krabbendam is right: -the bite of your friend, -the kisses of your enemy. I had dinner spontaneously with him. He is such a great mentor.
Went out on the boat today with Charis. What a joy she is!

"" If ever I were to get a tattoo. ""

And now I am sitting in the warm glow of yellow lighting, listening to Old Blue Eyes sing me away from this place of stress, moping, and too many papers to write. "I know beyond a doubt, my heart will lead me there soon. happywe'llbebeyondtheseaandneveragainI'llgosailing."

One Year in the Life.

Today would have been a grand milestone. But no need to let the sentiments and nostalgia go to waste. One year ago a beautiful thing happened. We shared almost everything with each other. Life has a way of pressing fast forward and before you know it, here we are. Separate. Happy (I hope you are). I fell in love with my best friend a year ago. And screwed everything up.
I don't know if you're thinking about me today at all. But I'll be thinking about you. Not with the disdain I've felt occasionally. But with the hindsight to see our mistakes and still enjoy the good times. That time we went to the Franklin Institute (and couldn't even really enjoy the exhibits by how wrapped up in each other we were). Our silly telescopic adventure and chocolate covered strawberries. Your mom making me a stocking for Christmas and the lilac sweater I still wear. A birthday cake all to myself. Snuggling into your shoulder and being bashful when I had no secrets to keep from you. Our crying and shouting and roundabout debating fights. The end of a beautiful thing. The miles between us. Not knowing how you're doing....it's a pulsing ache.
Sometimes the answer to our prayers is No. I wish I had understood that earlier, sooner. We shouldn't have been so intimate. We shouldn't have done a lot. But we can't just erase those things, because we lived them. We can, however, transform them into lessons, beauty from pain, love, memories, and hopes for the future.
I'm spending today in a black dress. Writing papers, reading biographies, and occasionally looking through old photos, listening to Ke$ha sing The Harold Song, Katy Perry's The One That Got Away, and my melancholy Jonsi Pandora station. It's raining here on the mountain, but warm enough not to wear a coat. It's quite nice.
Bevin asked me yesterday what my 65 year old self would say to me today looking back. Beyond being a pessimistic crone, I think she'd have a twinkle in her eye. A knowledge of  the good of a thing is necessary to mourn the loss. So I think she'd tell me to be able to define the good and bad, but know that they aren't separate or defining. One break up or fight doesn't mean that we had a "bad relationship". Quite the contrary, we had a relationship and it had some AMAZING times, and some sad times too. It's like the fireflies on my wall. There are bright circles amidst the greys. Happy times among the just being, and the depths of dark.

All said, I love you.
I'm always gonna.
Even if love is morphing and changing. Even if you never talk to me again. Even if you marry a total babe and I live like Amy Carmichael, Amma.
It's all life.

I'm learning what single is again. But this time it's different. I don't feel rushed to find a guy to tell me I'm beautiful. I don't need to be romanced and kissed to know I am worth something. For I am worth everything to him who died to save me. I am beautiful and worthy in His eyes. and THAT is what love really truly means.

Adventures

Plugging along. Drifting, maneuvering, laughing. Flying, glowing, blinking. Being.

I live with poets, musicians, artists, and comedians. I just watch too much Youtube and cut out little circles of yellow paper to look like fireflies. I hope someone finds me interesting. Because lately I'm pretty anti-social and boring.
I'm feeling a tinge of commiseration over lost relationships.
I'm feeling a sweet joy at progress. I called my dad last week. We talked for almost 2 hours. It hurt like heaven.
I have a countdown of days till I see my mom again.
I want to call you, but you won't answer. Sometimes I do....just to hear your voice on the answering machine....knowing that you'll never see the blinking number of missed calls increase.
I'm getting even braver. Because true boldness comes from knowing that nothing cannot be taken away from me because I have Christ.
This fall air is Grace.
I really want to go to Yakama this spring. But I'm not sure what my motives are yet.
I just am. I just live.
How about you?

Couture

In other news, I got my last Birchbox today :) This has probably been the best gift ever. November brought with it what I have been craving ever since meeting SaraKathryn in O-Team. Emerald green nail polish. This is the motivation I need to grow my nails out and clean up my cuticles. Zoya Nail Polish in Holly (Fall 2011 collection):

Cozy

Our dorm room finally feels like it has reached a level of coziness and warmth of spirit. We unbunked our beds and redecorated. In the process Ashley had to forgo use of a chair for her desk, but we are both quite content with sitting on our beds reading. More so than before, 319 has become a hub of communication. We have visitors sitting on our beds, chairs, and floor at all hours, studying, talking, singing. It is beautiful. Our door is always open (well except for when I am reading G.K. Chesterton and totally engrossed behind a veil of classical music).
Before:

After:

The Brave

When you go to college far from home, you find out who your true friends are. It's a weird mix of wanting certain people to talk to you and them not and people you accidentally neglected calling you, skyping you, and texting you because they genuinely miss your company and person. I miss my best friend! Our homecoming picture from Senior year is hanging on the wall above my bed. He's all over it.



For all the people who told me to go to an academy for college, I say, I could never be as tough as Jake and Sean. Love you kiddos!! I'm proud to call them my friends, and proud of their service to our country at New Mexico Military Institute. Over in Roswell, they sure put up with a lot. Respect, man.