closure.

a heavy dose of passenger in my life, and i laugh free.

in the recent week, i have loved with the Lord and thanked him all the same. it seems silly to remember some things, but it has made all the difference.

my favorite move in life is the stiff arm. in the last 2 years or so, ive stiff armed a lot of people. heres a poster. its nicer, more gentle, it laughs on cue, and it would love to be your friend, and get close with you. not always like that, but ive watched myself do it enough times to know. hence the word 'trust' coming up on a regular basis. learning to love and receive it. a couple weeks ago, i wrote a letter to reconcile. a few old wounds were finally mending, and with the mending came freedom and release. with it came trust and a softer side of life. a positive response started to remove some of the stitches. the scar started to become a story. funny to me that about 2 days after i sent this letter, i ran into a friend writing a difficult letter too. when she told me, i laughed because the process can be a bitter thing, but it is necessary. most processes are. in vague descriptions, i heard old wounds, resilience and some hope. some determination. we both laughed. after i left, i prayed for her letter, for her hands, and for her heart. this season of prayer has been weak and unfamiliar. so i told her. i prayed that the process would yield healing whether or not the letter was sent, or even finished. and she reminded me that often times, those counted for quite a bit.

 during this time, i started to try and remember more of my life. a remembered life is an integrated one. i wanted to be whole. so much many of my lingering memories drift around my injury. why did i do what i did? why did i allow others to make decisions for me? funny enough, this friend with the letter had a similar process, but more intense than mine. i wanted to hear her voice in her story. she talked and i heard it all, because a lot of it, i knew very intimately. more commonalities surfaced, and it made me hungry for more. shes a good story teller with a wise heart, so over the course of the day, we spent 4 hours sharing life. that verb is key. sharing. not taking, not giving, but sharing. this is where the stiff arm comes in. i didnt stiff arm her. i trusted her and i believed her. she knew the process too. and her wisdom reminded me to be gentle and patient, not only with others, but also with myself. i walked away satisfied. and loved. and hopeful. not that i didnt know those before, but i remembered them and believed them. as silly as it sounds, in that conversation i remembered that i love people. i love caring for people. i love knowing people and their stories. i love when people are honest. i love bearing stories and holding them. i love all of it. hearing her talk reminded me that i can do those, and do them well. that im not defective and my holes dont have to stop me from loving people. the conversation was so healing. i walked away lighter and deeper at the same time, thanking God for his intentionality. i still cant say why i was so interested in her process, or even what i was looking for. maybe i wasnt looking for anything. but God played a good hand and for that i am still thankful. the plan is now to meet weekly, because she enjoyed it too. someone can enjoy my presence. and i dont have to rank them, or make them older than me. i can learn and love and that can be enough. i can be enough.

the letter that i sent a few weeks ago was in response to an invitation. i attended, praying with grace to celebrate a friend who accomplished something, despite all opposition to it. and i remembered that process too. she was brave and stood up and was credited for her work. i sat next to hannah and remembered life, and was so thankful. so thankful that this process has healing, because it had been so wounding. and the details arent necessary, but the redemption was there. at the end, an exchange was made. the letter and conversation with my other friend had already dressed my wound. i felt free, no longer bound by this past. i had forgiven and let it go. there was nothing left to reconcile, no intentions, no responses necessary from the exchange. the exchange itself wasnt even necessary. but it finished off the healing. "thank you for coming. i really appreciate it. you coming means a lot to me". eye contact, and a genuine side that i know well. i said, "i wouldnt miss it for anything". and there was peace and healing. hopefully for both sides. but certainly here. and the wound is now a story. it does not evoke emotions. it does not cause me to relive anything. it is a story, and it doenst need to be shared with anyone, but it is nice to know that i can. i can share stories. i can disclose. funny too that the word 'closure' is so closely related to 'disclose'. perhaps we would do well to camp out there.

 i lived. i am living. i can live. i do live. this week was the first time in a while where i self-disclosed without fear. i trusted. it was simple. i came from somewhere. i have a story. i can tell it. i believed that the people on the other side were not going to abandon me. they were going to trust me too. "the story is important because it is real. it is your story. it is important for no other reason than that". my story is important. sarah used to say that i couldnt push that on other people and not believe it for myself. but i did. the ability to separate yourself. what a cursed privilege. in talking to a friend, i was reminded that the coping habits of my life are not markers of deficiencies and poor experience. instead they are strengths that you cant have until youve lived there. they make you easier to hire. more patient sometimes. better endurance. whichever scar it is, its tough as hell. scar tissue can bend titanium. you cant break it. for better or worse. scars can be a privilege. there is no need to give yourself any, but if you have, i hope youve learned from it. perhaps it will remind you to be gentle with yourself, as it has done for me.

thankful for time to breathe and be free.

i found closure this week. for some old wounds, and for some more recent ones. by my own hands and by others. and its been a painful process for the most part. but i have it now. i have closure. or perhaps it has me. i do not think we can grasp it, but we can certainly rest in it.

Well you only need the light when its burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go

Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast
You see her when you close your eyes
Maybe one day you’ll understand why
Everything you touch surely dies

But you only need the light when its burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go
Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go


Staring at the ceiling in the dark
Same old empty feeling in your heart
Cos love comes slow and it goes so fast
Well you see her when you fall asleep
But never to touch and never to keep
Cos you loved her too much and you dived too deep


Well you only need the light when its burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go
And you let her go
Well you let her go

end of a season.

two and a half more hours on this bus, what better to do than write?

this was my final weekend of volleyball, and the last of my college career. im still in absolute awe. unbelievably grateful.

my junior year held a fourth surgery, adding to the excessive scar tissue in my abdomen and hip. it held my final soccer game. it held some of the most intense wrestling that ive ever known. during my season, and later, my recovery process, i was plagued with confusion in Gods intentions. (havent we all been there?) why was i built with such athleticism if it was going to be taken away? i played everything in high school and excelled. in college, i played every position on the field, minus forward. so why take it away? why bother in the first place? if im honest, those questions still linger a little. but i finally let go. i was no longer an athlete and had too many limitations to even pretend that i was athletic anymore. my pain had continued to increase, despite my inactivity. it seemed that playing had curbed the pain a little, but it was still painful. i didnt understand. i took time to rest but still nothing helped. my body was wrecked, getting to the point where i couldnt sit in class, and would have to pull myself out for fear of crying. i met with every anatomy professor i could because there is no such thing as an abdominal specialist. after a long season of running "organic" tests, we narrowed down what my problem was and how to manage it. i tested what sports agitated my pain and what lessened it. soccer made it worse, volleyball made it better. so like any overly ambitious athlete, i played every opportunity i could. i eventually got a chance to help the gwu team as a scrimmage player. and i wasnt that bad. that is where this crazy season of life started. one girl quit, so i got the chance to play. and i did. i even started for some of the season. and its been amazing. my friends supported me, knowing my process, and sharing the privilege. my parents even got to see me play. first time in 6 years. i got close with new teammates, and supported old ones. i was loved so well and im so grateful. i was apart of a program that is continuing to move forward. and the coolest part of this redemptive second chance that i got in my college career is just that. it is unusual to play 2 sports in college, let alone such polar opposites. pretty athletic. pretty freaking grateful. a long twisting heart wrenching road. but i made it. i played my 4 years here, and ended it better than i couldve imagined. everything about my situation is an anomaly. totally unique, and unusual. and the part of my soul that recognizes grace knows that it is mine, and it is from the heart of God itself. a privilege. a second chance. explosive grace. it still blows my mind.

i didnt cry when the final point was scored. my body went into freak out mode so i couldnt even manage standing properly the first 2 matches. but i knew and i think coach knew that this would probably be it. half a tube of bio freeze, bunches of prayer, and last minute stretching put my pain at a manageable level, so i played for the last game. we did better than anyone expected. played the #1 team on their senior day, and were within 5 points in every game. left it all on the court and was proud of the effort across the board. we came back within 2 points, after being 10 points down. mind you, they were at 23. thats incredible. everyone laid out. and thats the end. we wont make our own tournament, but we'll be okay. perspectives will change, disappointments will fade. that is what happens in time and thats okay. i know cause ive seen it and done it. and everyone will grow, knowing that there is more to do.

im thankful. again. i got a second chance and i got to watch. i got to be apart of a team with girls who have hearts, stories and insane talent on the court. my parents got to say goodbye too, and in their own time. i cried a couple times, i played well when i could, and lost my voice on the bench. it is a privilege to be apart of a community. to be accepted, loved and appreciated. i was tired a lot, and close to broke too. but i can say with total confidence that it was totally worth it.

"Thanks God for love and mercy and hope
for hands strong enough to undo my noose's rope
for some things that are bigger because you make them
for love, for it running deeper because its yours
thanks for hour after hour of lung filled life resting in my chest
for being bigger and knowing best
better than i know cleaning up my mess of failed attempts
a stained wedding dress.
and these missed marks and failed disasters you heal and you bless
you hear my words and acknowledge me, my life, my presence
you see worth where i choose death
you see hope where i feel wounds
you see redemption behind my eyes, past the shadows running around my head
i feel broken and you see whole
you see beauty and love and glory
words i fear.
for fear if i accept them i will have to punish myself because i dont deserve them
i still dont.
but you dont care
because grace is blind you tell me that
no amount of scars, self-inflicted or not could keep me down
i can still get back up"

-september 2, 2009.

once upon a time.

my life is a funny catastrophe, and im finally invested in the joke.

i never write, i read sometimes, and in between i go to class work and volleyball. it never slows down. ever.

almost done with volleyball which is crazy to me. but im grateful. my body has been freaking out recently and it concerns me, but there are few things i can do, so i jokingly call my "treatment plan" an ice diaper. yes, laugh. my birthday was last week and im officially 23, when nobody likes you. its a song. i dont think anyone cares how old you are.

anyways. i had a bonfire and it was fun. old friends and new, jesus folk and not, everyone laughing like the world wasnt spinning a million miles an hour. like we werent all making it through college, mindlessly wandering. because sometimes we are and sometimes we arent. for my birthday, i bought myself a session with my counselor. i dont make too many good decisions, but that was definitely one of them. talked about fear and disconnected wires, cause ive been unplugging all over the place. i detach my wires so i can be functional and emotionless enough to do a job, and i push the box further away from my life, until i dont remember. but then my boxes become roots that i didnt see and i trip and stumble, and wonder why. but its not really wondering, its just sobering up.

 recently, the advice ive given is for people to be brave. the only analogy i can come up with is putting on an old pair of jeans that you loved once, but you're not totally convinced they fit anymore. you've got two options: to put them back in the closet, or to do the dance of every girl who has ever played soccer and try to force them to a manageable position. here is to making pacts and trying to not back down. dance away my friend. God is funny in my life. it is never a question of whether he is involved, it is always a question of what he is doing. and typically, that gets cleared up quickly too. i have a goal this year to accomplish 10 brave things by the time the school year is over. some of them i know, some of them will arise later. most of them dont mean anything to anyone else, but they mean a lot to me. and of course, all of them carry a good deal of anxiety and fear. i always swore i would never let fear lead my life, but sometimes starting over from scratch will do that to you. this is the part where i begin to work away and become something courageous. not in an ignorantly fearful way, but just in a way where i am choosing to be vulnerable and choosing to trust. mostly people, but sometimes outcomes too. i want to be brave again. but differently this time. and that has been my week. i asked my coach for help with meals because im scraping by on paychecks and short hours. i sent an email to someone i love more than most, but am so cautious of. i cried, because something bothered me. because i can name things now, and not be plagued. because i know that things will continue to haunt you until you acknowledge that they are in fact haunting you. call things by their right name. i let people celebrate me on my birthday. i accepted it and embraced it. i told some of my college sports story, without hellish bitterness and scathing sarcasm. i talked to God boldly again. and he answered. i came up for air a little bit. sometimes wriggling back into those pants is a worthy endeavor. sometimes, its just for how goofy you look, because they really dont fit, but sometimes, like now, its about finally getting them over the legs that have lifted for the last 3 months, because they are still youre favorite jeans.

all the time learn.

im reading the philip pullman series and i love them. i thought to myself, hmm, light reading. psych. there is a scene of absolute tenderness and love, and despite my unplugging and frayed wires, there is something in my heart that registers with that, and all of its intimate warmth. i read through the scene and literally put the book down because my heart was moved and i was flooded with multiple memories of that very feeling, where i was desperately and decidedly loved. by parents, biological and otherwise, by sisters, by friends. at the end of my junior year, when i was finally emotionally sober and not crazy, i prayed to God one day. i finally faced him honestly and i said okay. i had tried to reattach all the things that i had fallen apart in my life, by good will, prayer and work. by willingness and trying again. my efforts amounted to more insanity and more mess. i know i reference that season a lot, but it was so defining and so transformative. it is one of the most monumental shifts that i have access to in my grand 23 years of life. but as i prayed, i asked God for one word. i didnt know what it would be because i only heard silence for so long. i just wanted one so i could hold onto something simple. no sentence, no direction, no promise. just one word. i sat in silence, as open and empty as ive ever been and i waited. and i got my word.

"precious". 

i had a wise tender voice in my life call me precious once. in a previous season of piecing together my story and inviting someone into my life, i named my fears, not realizing how many of them were tendrils reaching out of a deeper question. who was i and did i matter? these were the questions that i couldnt answer because i didnt know how to ask, and if im honest, didnt want to. it was as if realizing the answer scared me so much that i would prefer to not know. because if i did matter, then the previous seasons of my life were no longer coherent because they could no longer make sense. in biblical studies, this is called a theodicy. of sorts. usually, it is an issue on a bigger scale, but we are human, so we must ask ourselves the same thing. but in either case, in a tender season of confession and fears, she told me that i was precious and worthy of love. and for the first time in twenty years, i believed the person who said it to me. what a wild thought. this would be one of many truths that i was told, only to believe them at a later time. so funny to me, that as i prayed, removed from everyone else in my life who mightve had a chance at words, i found one so dear and so close. i asked again. again God gave me "precious". this whole story is pointless for you, but important to me. recently, God has brought it up again. do i know that i am considered precious? that the Lord calls me dear, and means it? do i live like Jesus gives a shit about my life. i have tried to reword that sentence so many times, without using cusswords, and none of them can deliver the same intensity. jesus does care. i am dear. i can see a couple places where i live in fear instead of light, because i started to question some of my worth again. thats dumb. i spent a lot of energy and a lot of trust in relearning the truth about my own worth. no use in backsliding.

 i bring all this up because i am trying to be brave again. or a better kind of brave. i want to say that i was never brave and that all i ever did was foolish, but thats taking credit for the work God has done in my life. i can live in courage. its hard. and vulnerable and it makes me more uncomfortable than it ever has before. but ive also seen enough fruit in my life to know that it is valuable. loving is hard. it means putting yourself in a position to be hurt, knowing that it can and, if youre around long enough, will happen, but choosing to live as if that very idea would surprise you. it is allowing yourself to be wounded, but with motives of choice and hope, not fear and defeat. that is the hinge that i never understood before. but again, later in life, i finally understood. none of this is for anyone but myself, or at least not on purpose. i have to work through my head by way of word, and present it to an audience, even if its a wall. curse you external processing. you make me so dependent. but again, to God's credit, perhaps that is the point. cause if i wasnt wired that way, rest assured these thoughts would not be shared.

a friend of mine wrote a poem about a visit we had about a month ago. im putting it here not because the world revolves around me, but because something in my heart nods its head as my eyes captivate themselves with each well placed word. because what she says is more true than i was able to realize.

"sometimes you must open your eyelids far earlier than they would desire,

for the sake of time spent with a friend from that southern peninsula.

and those are the times that you sit across from her

as she eats peanut butter pie and chocolate milk for breakfast,

and tells you of how her body is broken but her spirit is alive."

-em echev.

so here is to sappy songs with acoustic guitars. melancholy lyrics with a morose sense of humor. two terms for the same thing. sometimes, thats what you need, not because your sad, but because that is the only appropriate soundtrack music to scenes where you look back on life and ponder. three cheers my friends.

slow it down.

only 2 of you will think this is funny, cause ive been thinking it too.

life these days is fast and full. ben howard and the lumineers sing to me while i run from one thing to the next, inches from my overwhelmed threshold, but still on this side of the fence. if i could do one thing, it would be slow it down. to rest my arms and rest my legs. i dont get to feel the seasons much because the things that eat my time are all indoors. thats not necessarily a bad thing, but october is my favorite and i would hate to waste it.

my season has 12 more games in it. its still funny to me that i have a season. that i am on a team with a college name across my shirt. it is so fast. faster than anything ive lived before. or maybe it is just that my nerves are working properly and the chemicals that tell me what im feeling are actually in check and acknowledged. learning to live and feel and breathe. always. and thankful.

i talked to my friend logan last night and we have been working through the process of who we are. heritage and teaching and choices. all beautiful things, whether done well or not. it made me grateful for the influential people in my life. im not sure whether i realized how true this was until now. i said, "i think from my parents, i learned how to listen to others. from charlotte, i learned how to listen to God. and from sarah, i learned how to listen to myself". and i think that is fair. i have been marveling at how true those things are and how grateful i am for them. you must know all of them, lest you explode. fullness of that word meant.

i keep listening to ben howard and his words are soothingly haunting. he talks a lot about the ocean and about deep things and i am drawn to that. love is an ocean. it gives, it takes, it rips the shoreline and makes the sand soft under your cold feet. it nurses the edges of the world and rages against cliffs and crags. it begs sailors and thinkers alike. it is weathering, wounding, and funny enough, in its content, it is healing. and that is what i know to be true of love. in some seasons it rips you apart, pulls you away from the shore beyond the reach of loved ones, and yet somehow, if you let it, the rip tide will float you back to the beach, a little further down than when you started. love is an ocean. and i am caught in its waves.

i will be 23 next week, which is weird and funny but i feel it. today is the first day in almost a week where i woke up after 530, and when walking outside included sunlight. the first day i have had time to feel and stretch out. i feel the transition today. i feel the ocean inside me and around me. i feel my soul being worked over, and i feel it moving. i am not in undergrad. i am still in school, but it is different. i no longer put in work orders to fix my light, i walk to the store to buy a light, and i do it myself. macy doesnt come by and sweep the floor, i do that. and i dont put my dishes on the conveyor belt. in reality, i dont use dishes ever so i dont use them. beat you to it. but it is true. i dont meet with the world. i dont spend my free time chasing people. free time in this season is the anomaly. i do my own homework, and i make my own boundaries. some people have fallen out of my life, and they will stay there. some people will make it back. some people i will choose to follow. and some people are still here. heaven is a place we know heaven is the arms that hold us long before we go. ben howard says each word with care before he brings in us a chorus, reminding me that if youre there when the world comes to gather me in, i will be blessed. if anyone in my life is there when the world brings me home, i will be blessed, for i have known love and care that goes deeper than any trial i have and will ever face.

i have been blessed beyond blessings in love. by my family, friends, mentors, teammates, everything. in coffee shop conversations and couch ramblings and cross country car rides. intentional alliteration. i have always known love, though i have not always felt it, or been able to see it. i can look back on a majority of my time spent in college, and i can recollect warmth. i can still feel the care and the depth of love, and it is just a memory. i can see wounds and i can feel hurt, but the warmth overrides that, because i have known love. i read through proverbs 4 the other day and felt my soul move. "Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you;  love her, and she will watch over you." and i love that. the idea of protecting those you love. and being protected. part of my identity reminds me that i was meant to be cared for sometimes. the world doesnt owe me, and i dont expect that. but i do accept that there is something tender in every person you meet, and that tenderness craves care. we were all meant to give in receive love. families, neighbors and enemies alike. intentional design.

i am thankful. i am calm, a little tired, and pretty happy. but mostly i am  thankful. and now that i am not chasing chaos or being consumed by expectations, i can say that and love it. 

cause you are dear to me yeah you are dear.

its only capitalized because i typed it in word. boo.

I think it’s the music im listening to again, but im thankful. That humanity is made up of resilient warriors, who wake up every day and stand up against gravity.

We played in Birmingham this weekend and I was fortunate enough to see a friend from high school, and another from the summer. My high school friend and I exchanged the cliffnotes of the last 4 years and it was beautiful. The reality of addictions and the victory of literally throwing them off the side of a mountain. What a privilege to be apart of each others lives. To know and to hold. We are stories, living and breathing, and sometimes loving.

Im still learning how to balance my time (lets keep a tally of how many times I say that..) and its getting better. I still play all the time and work too much, and BARELY squeeze my work in.. but its getting better. Spending time with good friends and creating space for good conversations. Colleen got it right. You have to create space for those things.

My friend from high school made a great point today about reflecting (senior status) on her life and reading her journals. The process by which we move through life is funny and orderly, but not predictable. She pointed out that though she knew she had grown, she didn’t realize how much until she really slowed down to look at things. Upon seeing the chasm, her next realization was the idea that she needed to be gentle with her younger self. What a great thought. How often do I sift through old journals and think to myself, no wonder this went wrong, or how could you have been so foolish? When in reality, my foolishness is merely my humanity sticking out. Sometimes, we are as dumb as we appear to be in retrospect. But a lot of times, we’re just young, and working ourselves out.  A lot of self-conditioned criticality (an unnecessary demand for perfection. Dumb) has benefitted me in the area of self-discipline, but sometimes I forget and forfeit the soothing gift of giving yourself grace. It was a simple conversation at O Henry’s in Alabama this morning, but how liberating. To breathe in your own skin and relax. To laugh at your youth instead of dig out some sort of lesson.

Ive wondered recently about the idea of trying to cross lines. How often do we challenge boundaries set ahead of us? We talk about inching up to the line to see how close we can get without crossing, but I wonder if a line is too concrete. I wonder if the mentality should be more about thresholds. I guess in some ways those are the same things, but threshold reminds me more of protection than presenting a challenge. Once your mind crosses certain thresholds, it stops giving you a choice and intervenes automatically, because you are either physically incapable, or because your body has decided that you made the wrong decision. I think about thresholds mostly as they relate to pain (esp physical) because that is the most readily available example in my life. My thresholds were crossed constantly because of the influence of voices I heard and the work of my own hands.  And my body shut down for it on several occasions. In some places I received praises for mental toughness, but the honest voices in my life pleaded with concern. I was hurting myself, convinced I could cross one more line and I would be okay. 3 years later, with scar tissue lattices across my abdomen, nerve damage, and a slue of adjustments, I can say that the threshold was crossed, and irreversibly so. I thought I was stepping over lines, to make myself stronger, when in reality, I was breaking my threshold over and over again until my body took things into its own hands and said no.

i guess these are the things you learn as you look at your life. i used to hate processes (your cue to laugh) but now i sort of get them. and i can enjoy them instead of resenting them. i think im finally getting to the place now where i can be gentle with other people in their processes instead of trying to make them speed up, or whatever other power i think i have. life is good and love is an ocean.

love is an ocean.

my (actual) favorite 't' word. thankful. still thankful. working out the other 't' word; trust.

classes have started and they actually make my life easier, which i find funny. i often sit between friends where certain looks can be exchanged and understood. ive been given the privilege of sharing deep conversations of the theological and soul baring genre. i started soccer bible study and have been playing volleyball. i got dinner with my mentor and ive had a chocolate chai latte every time ive gone to work. literally all of my favorite things.

the other day i was talking with some teammates and i mentioned something about portioning out meals to make sure its enough for another meal. the next time we ate together, one of my teammates asked if what she had was enough for a portion. i assumed she was making fun of me so i rolled my eyes. when we got up to leave, she handed me a to-go box, explaining that she wanted to make sure it was enough. you want to talk about being humbled? want to talk about being cared for? it really is about the people around you.

tonight we played north carolina a&t and we won, which was great. lets be real, we've needed W's for a while. but the best part was watching the team really get it. we stopped worrying about who was in, and deserving it, and all the bitterness that comes with that. we were all for each other. we became our own biggest fans. molly got to go in and she killed it. devin got to play and she did SO WELL. watching each player on the court succeed was unreal. i think thats what sports are supposed to be about. character building and learning to be for each other. becoming a better community for each other. looking out for each other. yesterday, i was running on total empty and i couldnt pass to save my life. multiple teammates sought me out to encourage and listen. we can be so powerful in each other's lives.

better love ive seen.

and in reality, ive experienced it too. sometimes when the weather changes, the only appropriate response is to listen to drew holcomb and the neighbors. something about their music makes sense for this time of the year. ive seen them in concert and its unreal. so much passion, so much thought, and so much love. thats what i want my life to be about. ive been listening to ellie holcombs magnolia ep all week and its good to my soul. so much of it is just reminding yourself of the goodness of the Lord. sitting still and resting your head on his shoulder. i smile like im old and weathered when i listen to their music. in some ways i am, but in other ways im young and goofy and restless. and thats good to remember. i am not old or young, i am both. seasoned and naive. both. i like this road. it is winding, like the ones that wrap their ways around my house. i am surrounded by good friends who come to my games, and who meet me for coffee in between those times. saturday night after my game, there will be a bonfire at my house and i cannot wait. i look forward to sharing laughs over a fire in a chilly night.

earlier, i knew that this year was going to be good, but that it would be rough. that is not the same as overwhelming, or destructive. it will still be a year of continuing my journey and learning to love jesus, myself and others. but it will have its moments. it already has in a couple places. my uncle has stage 4 colon cancer, and its sad. our family is a weird one. we're not close, but we're protective and grateful for each other. its my dad's brother in law. which means that out of my dad's family, he's the husband of my dad's only living relative for several thousand miles (the closest are in western canada and california) it is a sad thing, but a hopeful thing too. who knows. i dont. so in the meantime, it spurs me to pray, and reminds me to be thankful of whatever time i am allowed to participate in, because there is always uncertainty in what you will receive.

"i want you to live forever underneath the sky so blue"

faces are funny in sports action shots. love is an ocean. thank you ellie holcomb for reminding me.