Countdowns and Flocks

I’ve never heard so many birds singing at once. All our windows are open, and the rain just stopped. I’m eating sea salt caramel pretzel ice cream on my bed while wrapped in a blanket (which will probably come off in about thirty seconds…I keep getting too cold and then too hot, back and forth). There must be fifty birds in the trees around our apartment, and they are all chattering at once. The crickets are starting to chirp too, which is always a comforting sound to me.

I’m still getting used to this new season—it’s such a jolt to jump straight from winter to summer. I love the temperatures we have now, but I didn’t realize how much I appreciate that period of time when everything melts, gets slushy and rainy, and then the buds sit on the trees for a week or two, and everyone waits expectantly. I treasure that feeling of hope. Feels like we’re all still trying to get our bearings now.

On another note, I have a black dress that, when I wear it, always leaves big, black dye stains on my arms. This was a shame a couple days ago when I got home and was ready to change into a tank top (we were all roasting in our apartment, trying to avoid turning on the air conditioner in order to save money, but ended up resorting to it anyway). I’ve washed the dress several times in the washing machine, by itself, without any other clothing, and each time the water drains out black. It’s really the dress’ one downfall. Other than stained shoulders and underarms, I love it to pieces. Anyways, just thought I’d share that with you.

Another update: I’m traveling to the East Coast soon! To visit New York City, Connecticut, the Appalachian mountains, D.C., and see some family in Virginia. So, I have about a two-week countdown until moving day now and a one-month countdown until this trip. I’m pretty excited for both—I always seem to have great life realizations on road trips and during transitions, and I’m already looking forward to the growth (whether painful or not painful) that will happen.

Now I can hear a mourning dove outside, and the sun has almost set. Apparently there’s a Flash Flood Watch for Hennepin and Ramsey County, but it sure doesn’t seem like anything’s flooding outside to me.

Off to watch a movie with Elsie and Max!

Laur

Some Appalachian goodness.

The now, the cheese, the bonfire

I am blogging because Drew told me to blog, and sometimes it just takes the people in your life telling you to do things you love for you to actually do them. So here I am. Kirsten is sitting on the couch across from me, eating Monster Cookie ice cream out of her new mug from the pottery tour at Briscoe’s and watching Baby Mama. There are boxes everywhere, a clump of lamps and containers on the entertainment center, and blankets, pillows, dishes, and bins scattered around the rest of the apartment. We just stored the Persian rug for move-in time, along with the gold velvet chair and the wooden dresser, and then we took a good fifteen minutes out of our afternoon to finish up the wasabi peas in the cupboard. We’re trying to eat all the food we have, so we can avoid grocery shopping during this time and just finish it all off. Kirsten leaves in three days, and then the rest of us will be headed our separate ways within the next two weeks.

Some hand-hewn items by potter, Jason Trebs

I don’t feel nostalgic yet which either means that it hasn’t really hit me that we’re all leaving, or I’ve just learned how to handle transition very well. I’m trying to stay in the present and appreciate each moment as it comes this next month. While at the pottery tour up north yesterday, my uncle and I talked about taking chances and how it’s one of the best things you can do in life–even if you fail. We were sitting in the North Folk winery, a recent dream that my aunt and uncle’s friends have recently made into a reality. Bonfire smoke drifted in the windows, mixing with the wood scent of the log walls and vaulted ceiling. The building itself is in a big, open field with one side nestled into a forest. People were mulling about beneath us, chattering and tasting wine–la cresent, pear-apple, strawberry-rhubarb–and eating dubliner and cheddar cheeses. We talked about moving, pursuing dreams, and work. We ate cheese. Then we went outside and listened to the folk and blues singers, and I felt snug under the wool blanket and happy to be near people that I loved. It was good to sit in the present, while the sun was growing dusky and kids were running back and forth between the wood benches and around the fire, dancing, and we were all enjoying some of the beautiful.

In the name of staying in the present (or at least the present of this week), here is a list of the things I am looking forward to in the next seven days:

• Small group BBQ on a forecasted 90-degree Tuesday
• Getting together with Amy and hearing some very important things
• Great Gatsby for the second time, this time with fancy desserts
• Celebrating Kirsten on her last day with us on Wednesday
• Roadtripping to northern WI to see Gwen get married

Well, that’s all I have for you. Kirst and I going to run some errands now.

Peace.
L

Fire Truck

I went to Gap to buy a dress one night a couple weeks ago, and on my way to the store, a fire truck pulled out of the department and onto the street. I followed it down the road for about four miles, its lights glittering red and blue under the cloudy overhang. The truck’s sirens were off, and I watched it in the silence as cars pulled to the side to let it by or slowed and started again in front of me. It struck me as strange that I was going to a shop to browse through racks of cotton drop-waist and shirtdress, and someone else in the world was trying to find their cat in a smoke-filled room or hauling their soot-covered children out to the curb.

It’s odd to think of that—the amount of souls passing back and forth from earth to the supernatural every minute. For every person that is dying right now, in this instant, someone else is being born and beginning a new and richly deep life. If I think too much about this, my brain gets heavy. One thing that’s comforting, though, in all this coming and going, is the fact that our bodies are only houses for our souls, and our souls go on forever. We always have that hope.

I read this in a book last month:

In 1971, John Lennon released the song ‘Imagine.’ In the lyrics, Lennon calls himself a ‘dreamer’ who imagines a world without nations and without religion. Without these, he says, there would be ‘nothing to kill or die for.’ Once ideas about heaven, hell, and God are removed, it becomes possible to ‘imagine all the people living life in peace.’

Ever feel like this? LIke you’re just barely there, hardly holding yourself above the surface?

To me, there is nothing less peaceful than this idea. I don’t think the problems plaguing the world could simply be solved by this—there is always human nature and history to reckon with.

No matter what angle I look at it from, I always come back to this: In Jesus, there is always hope. He brings peace into a busy mind buzzing with worry, reveals beauty and depth in everything, fights for, rescues, and loves ferociously. There is something scary beautiful about the way He made people in His image and what that means for humanity.

When all feels lost, sin is running rampant, everyone annoys you and no one seems to like you or care what you think, it’s refreshing to know that Jesus’ death has conquered it all, and we can fully trust Him to come through and help—even if it’s not how we would have expected it. Be open to it happening in a different way than you might have planned.

Just remember, you’re not alone. There are people who care. And there is Someone who is ever so mindful of you.

[Art by Oliver Jeffers]

Furniture

Sometimes it takes you six matches to light three candlewicks. Just saying.

What a week. I cried a lot on Friday. I think my one eye is swollen because of it. It was good, though–a great release of some emotion and a chance to get it all out there. A good cry is often the perfect medicine, and afterwards, everything generally seems better–sort of like that feeling you got when you were ten and had been swimming outside in the lake under the hot sun for hours. When the evening came and after a warm dinner, you were exhausted in all the right ways.

I have my coffee and granola here next to me now. It was a stressful week at work, and there is an equally intense week that is right around the corner. After the 13th, however, all will be well. On the bright side, however, we have just found an apartment near Grand Ave! And it is exactly what we were looking for. Wood floors, a brick wall, curved archways and old-fashioned light fixtures, lots of space, a big kitchen, and a vintage tub. And a screened-in front and back porch!

Despite all of this, I got pretty nostalgic when I pulled up to the apartment I’m sitting in now–the one I’ve learned to call home for the last two years. It’s strange that we’ll soon be packing everything into boxes and going our separate ways to new homes and new roommates after two years of this. It’s also funny to look at the ugly plaid couch across the living room and think about giving it away or dumping it in a dumpster. So much has happened on that couch over the past four years (we had it in the dorms too). So many tears shed and deep, nighttime talks on those cushions. So much food eaten on it and movies watched and naps taken. We studied late into the night, read book after book, and graduated via that couch. It really is ugly, though–gold, olive green, and 1970′s burnt orange–all meshed together. It dips down in the middle and the arm cushion covers fall off almost every day. I can’t help but simultaneously hate it and love it at the same time. Kirsten always said there was no such thing as an ugly couch, and you could fix anything with the right pillows. It will be sad to leave all of this, but I’m also excited to move on to something new. God keeps telling me to trust Him, and see what’s in store next. I’m enjoying the anticipation this time around.

Well, time to get ready. I’m getting my hair cut in a couple hours (on none other than Grand) and then going out to eat with family and friends for my mom’s birthday. 53 today! If you think of it, wish her happy birthday because she is the best of moms.

- L

A Summary

At the beginning of March, I decided that my initiative would be to blog something every day, in the spirit of cultivating the discipline of writing every day, for the entire month. What I soon discovered was that this was a really good thing, a really hard thing, and something that I could truly see myself doing as part of a career at some point. I also realized that if I didn’t make enough time for blogging, I would end up staying awake extra late (which would lead to pre- and post-lunch coffee the next day) or end up posting something that I internally didn’t value as much.

So, even though I have five days left, I want to retract my initiative in order to preserve some quality of what I publish. I don’t want to force anything or post boring things. I’m really excited for the season of my life that will give me time to write for a good portion of the day (THAT would be the best of days). Until then, I’m just going to post when it comes and not push anything.

On another note, here’s some of the music that will always make me remember this last month:

One of the Things I Like Most

One of the things I like most about birthdays is hearing from people I haven’t heard from in a long time—months or even years. There’s something

about a birthday that acts as an open gate for communication. Birthdays are something everyone has in common. Even if it’s merely a couple of words, wishing a happy day, from someone I haven’t seen or heard from for awhile or don’t know very well, I feel loved and cared about.

Some might call this naivety, but I think it means something if someone takes a few seconds to intentionally jot a line or say something. To me, it speaks for humanity at large—that there is goodness in the world and love in people. Yesterday, I felt communally wished a happy birthday.

This is probably my being an ENFP at best (Yet another great test to take! Click here for the Myers Briggs, and then Google your letters). But I take joy in knowing that people care enough to send happy birthday wishes no matter their closeness.

Of the 5…

I noticed something interesting today that might not be so interesting to anyone else. But I think it’s amazing how I can’t really do a lot when my sense of touch is lessened. If I’m wearing gloves—not even mittens where my fingers are all clumped together, but plain, old, ordinary leather gloves that I can grab things with—I can’t function to the same degree that I can when I’m not wearing either at all. I hadn’t realized how much I rely on my sense of touch to do things.

When I’m driving down the interstate and can’t look anywhere but the road in front of me, but need a chapstick, it’s my hand that blindly searches through my purse. I can feel lumps of things jostling around the bag with my gloves on, but I have to take them off if I am to truly feel and find the Burt’s Bees without driving off the road.

As a person who’s primary love language is physical touch, I’m a big proponent of what a hug, handhold, or even a simple nudge can do. (Actually, I normally feel like I have all 5 love languages as my primary love language. But I guess that’s what I would choose if I only had five minutes to receive or give love of some

sort. If you haven’t ever taken the Love Languages test before, click here. It’s well worth it). I’ve always heard in science classes that touch releases a stress-reducing neurotransmitter in your brain called oxytocin and that babies can’t bond to their mothers or even grow up in any sort of healthy manner unless they receive lots and lots of physical touch as infants. It makes me think that touch has so many more implications than I normally think about.

So if you’re sad, depressed, anxious, or any other negative feeling, go ask for a hug or sit close to someone or whatever else you can manage. It’s probably one of the best cures out there.

Trips

I am sitting on the couch, freshly showered, with a gingerale by my side. It’s fizzing and popping quietly in the can. Currently searching for some getaways. Any suggestions? I’m thinking a four- or five-day trip somewhere at the end of April. Dawnette and I were looking up ideas online and came across several wonderful bed and breakfasts here in MN as well as a beautiful lodge in Washington (this is out of the question as of now, but I can’t stop looking at it).

Celly and I have also been talking about the writing retreat trip we want to take here at some point. It will include many things, not excluding the Appalachian Mountain range, a convent or monastery, and hopefully an eastern beach house.

Skamania Lodge in Washington State. Look at all those pines!

The Murmur

It will be how they remember us.

There is glass over dirt here, clouded over
with the voices of ten thousand souls.
I see straight through that window after
a regular scan.

In the white clearness of an afternoon,
the blankly moving people
walk around with
their souls scraped clean.

Half of themselves.

We only look to the
dropping of the sun, so we can
sleep it off or press our organs,
dipped in ink, onto a page.

(How brilliant could we grow?)

I’ve taken to drifting off in public places,
and once even prayed myself to a
cycle of REMs that barely ended.

A whitewashed tomb, this reckoning is,
and us.

Cold air seeps, and then,
a breath toward the sea.

 

Getting Away

Maybe it’s because I’m a person who really values change and variety in my everyday life, but taking a trip or getting away does something really peaceful to me. Whether it’s a vacation to Duluth or camping at a state park or even just sleeping somewhere other than my brown-post, duvet-covered bed at my apartment, going somewhere new and different rests me in a way that nothing else can.

Tonight I’m staying at a friend’s house to spend some time and also as an experiment to see if my work commute will work from this direction. I might be living here come summer! It’s been nothing but a restful evening: glorious flank steak with peppers and rice for dinner, some lovely after-meal conversation, and mugs of mint chocolate ice cream. Can I value a shower? Even the shower was wonderful. It’s fun to be in a different bed under different covers.

Well, I’m going to continue soaking this up. Early, early morning tomorrow.

Goodnight one and all!

An early morning in a condo on Lake Superior last year.