:)

This does my dead-week soul good.

Fireworks - White

Pretty much since the album came out,  Mumford & Son's "I Will Wait" has been the theme song of my season.  Parts of the late fall and winter were extremely difficult - like being caught in a tight space - and my anthem became "I will wait..." [I think I gave that away here and here and even here].  The words spoke hope to me, that someday I would "know my ground."

Well, part of that process has been the desire and the need to discover and create my own place.  I can't quite explain the feeling.  Not just a sense of "it would be great if _______ [I had my own room, more bookshelves, etc.],"  but an urge that this year I must discover who Christ is through me - and that it would require a wider space to cultivate and become.

There's been a process.  There's been a search.  Waiting has become a disposition in the last 8 months - quite a difference between a temporary hold and a distant call. I had been in that tight space, knowing there was a wide open one waiting for me, like I had been waiting for it.

Then, just before Memorial Day Weekend, word came that just that place may exsist.  In between the chorus and the bridge at Mumford Live that weekend, my good friend Cami leaned forward and said, "I think this is the closing of a chapter..."  It was true (for both of us). 


[I will wait...]

 And thus began the summer of becoming. The summer of fireworks [I do apologize for the cryptic posts... but I couldn't talk about this yet].


Now, after hearing and waiting and becoming - it's here and it's real.

This weekend, my best friend and I are moving to a lovely little space near the lake.  She's been in a similar process, and, honestly, this place is more than we could have hoped for.  It's a new beginning.  A white canvas, if you will.


[This isn't a firework (duh), it's just a sparkler... but it's white - and I took the picture :]

 

I can't wait to share more with you (yes, there will be pictures).  But I'm grateful I could finally tell you about this particularyly bold and shimmering firework.

Of course Mumford reads Chesterton! 

Currently dreaming of [FINALLY] seeing them perform live :)  But for now, I will just appreciate that Marcus Mumford draws inspiration from the best.

couple crush

[so proud of them and their artistry]

Wait + Hope

Well, after about three years... I decided it was time for something new.

New name, new layout... hopefully new fun!

The actual title comes from the closing lines of one of my favorite books, The Count of Monte Cristo:

Until the day when God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words - "Wait and hope..."

The Lord has been speaking so much to me about "Wait + Hope"--and not just recently.

But He has been reminding me of this truth everywhere I turn.  And I've realized it's the theme of what I've blogged the last five years! 

Here are just a few reminders He's shared with me lately:

What would have become of me had I not believed that I would see the Lord's goodness in the land of the living!  Wait and hope for and expect the Lord; be brave and of good courage and let your heart be stout and enduring.  Yes, wait for and hope for and expect the Lord.

- Psalm 27.13-14 [Amplified]

Those who wait for the Lord, who expect, look for, and hope in Him shall change and renew their strength and power; they shall lift their wings and mount up close to God as eagles mount up to the sun; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint or become tired.

- Isaiah 40.31 [Amplified]

So I'll be bold

As well as strong

And use my head

Alongside my heart

So tame my flesh

And fix my eyes

A tethered mind

Free from the lies

I'll kneel down wait for now

I'll kneel down, know my ground

Raise my hands

Paint my spirit gold

Bow my head

Keep my heart slow

I will wait, I will wait for you...

- Mumford & Sons, "I will wait"

1.16.13

Today starts with yesterday.  Under an unusual compulsion, I jump into the shower before bed. I blow dry my bangs back - they're too long - and let the rest of my hair dry au naturale while I sleep.

Sleep in just a bit.  Begin morning routine, slightly thrown off by the tres au naturale hair.  Decide to curl it, pinning the bangs back.  It turns out well and faster than expected.  Makeup.  I realize, with my bangs back, I can do a smoky eye...first time in months.

Hair looks good.  Makeup looks good.  What do I have that's clean and will hide the holiday weight?  What to wear?  I pick a mustard yellow, lacy skirt.  Grab black tights, shirt, grey sweater (one of five), black boots.  Not too shabby.

Samara, you could drive in.  I could.  Forget the bus, I'm driving this morning.  Turn on the car so it will melt.

Keys x2, (brand new) iPhone, purse, book.

Not too bad of a commute... praying today goes better than the last two days.  Bob's back today.  It'll be a better day.

"I Will Wait" comes on.  Theme song of the season.

Paint my spirit gold...

I'm crying at the 4th street exit.

Park the car.  Dry my eyes.

Work away work away.  Compliments on the skirt "Oh, thank you..."  Work away work away.

Work is good - it is a better day.

Lunch - no LBD. Crack open the book for the first time.  Embrace fiction.  It's different, but I barely make it back to work on time.  Then I have a hard time leaving the book-scape and focusing on work.

"At some point you have to choose between life and fiction.  The two are very close, but they never actually touch."  I hear my mom quoting.  I'd rather not choose.  Eh, date a girl who reads.

Work away work away.  Cross off to-do list.  The afternoon goes fast.

Join the parade northbound.  Random musings during "five for the drive."  Why can people accept the abstractness of music but not of narratives?  They don't sit around frustrated asking - "but what do the notes mean?"  No, it's only when you complicate things with spoken language that people expect the speaker to have things figured out, sorted, wrapped in a bow.  They're not content to pass through the language and see what sticks afterward.  "Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery."  Listen to the music.  Look at the paintings.  Read the books.  Watch the films.  Accept the mystery.

Arrive at destination = another silent soap box session over.

Massage appointment.  Car accidents stink, but I can't complain about consistent massages.  My therapist says I look "British."  For the win.

And finally... home.

1.16.13

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