beautiful.

[hello seattle]

is anyone good at good-bye?

Mostly I consider myself a leaver. I'm not sure if subconsciously I can't stay in one place, but no one in my life for the past decade has known me beyond 4 years.

Now another set of good-byes. And it's going to be tough.

I've been with an incredible group of girls for the last 3 years. They've walked with me through love... heartbreak... difficult times... fun times... and even random trips to Wal-Mart. I've seen them grow from 3 tiny 6th grade pixies to a group of around 25 maturing women - learning who they are, what they want, and how to follow God for themselves.

They've changed friends. They've discovered boys. They've dated. They've gotten their hearts broken.

They've lived through stuff I never dreamed of at 14 - feeling ugly enough to be self-destructive, suicide, abuse from those who should be their protectors, the temptation of alcohol and drugs, wrestling with whether God is real or not, and peer pressure to try things I didn't even know existed at their age.

And here they are. Strong. Capable. Honest. and the most beautiful girls I've ever known.

It's been a privilege even to be a small part of their lives.

And saying goodbye is going to suck.

weeds

Let's get this out of the way. I know I live in Colorado, but this is NOT a post about THAT kind of weed. Okay. Moving on...

I spent this weekend pulling weeds. From everywhere. Giant ones. Sticky ones. Pokey ones. No matter how much weed paper, weed killer, or whatever else is supposed to get rid of weeds - still they grow. Everywhere. Even in the crappy brown stuff that I am not sure is even soil in my backyard. Weeds. Grow. All the time.

It made me realize... weeds are really the perfect example of life. During our small group with a random smattering of middle school girls, we talked about the importance of making good decisions. Constantly. It's not like you can just make one good decision one day and it lasts you the rest of your life. Every day... every hour... every minute, we must choose the right decision.

Just like you can't just pull weeds once, spray once or lay weed paper once. It takes work. And it's not easy.

If I'm being really honest... sometimes, I just want easy. The road less traveled by is that way for a reason.

But then again, I'm faced with the question: do I really want weeds?

waiting for the sun

Change. Seems like change just takes your world and turns it around, shakes it violently, then sets it back down crookedly.

The changes that I'm going through right now are necessary. And I do want them. But a piece of me wishes I could track back many months when things were sweet bliss and I didn't care or know anything could possibly go wrong with my pipe dreams.

I could come home to a man who loved me and ran to the door with a silly grin on his face, flapping his arms, glad to see me.
We'd play competitive trivia and bet over nothing because we shared everything.
I never went to sleep alone, but always had his arms around me... protecting me.

But that's just not reality.

Instead I've been moving from place to place to place. Couch to couch to couch. Bag to bag. I've slept alone for months... though I've felt like I was sleeping alone for much longer than that.
I've cried more times than I care to count.
I thought my heart was going to break and throw itself out of my chest because it didn't want to live in that hellhole anymore.
And I'm not only unprotected... I've been afraid of the arms that were supposed to have been shelter.

I find myself longing for normal. Wishing things could be easy and I could just not care about thriving, but be content with just... living.

Ignorance is bliss.
but. I guess it's not really. Living in mediocrity isn't really living at all, is it?

It's been raining for the last two days. In the immortal words of Rob Bell... it always rains. I guess I'll hold on, with no umbrella, and wait for it to stop. Waiting for the sun.

Waiting for the rain to stop.
Destination: beautiful.
Seems that I'm still waiting for the sun.
[mae - sun]

7 Boxes of Tissues

My cat made me cry tonight. An unexpected note made me cry tonight. A random conversation made me cry tonight. Geez... probably writing this post is going to make me cry.

Why do I keep writing?

I thought I knew what I was getting into... what to expect. I thought I was prepared. I even semi-realized I wasn't prepared, but MAN. Was I ever not ready to be back in a familiar place in such an unfamiliar state.

I'm tired of being on a roller coaster. Of pushing myself. Of not sleeping in a bed. Of not being able to sleep through an entire night. In fact, I might even be exhausted.

I'm tired of lives falling apart. Consequences... big ones... are all around me. From parents who forget their kids to kids who at 14 already know how to hide behind a smile to one more sad moment in a family who has already faced more sad times in a few months than most people face in a lifetime -- all of it. sucks.

And I'm exhausted.

that could also be because it's almost midnight.
geez.
... at least I didn't cry.

living out of a bag

Nomad. An odd joining of words. Cupcake is sort of shaped like a cup and is also a cake. Lap tops are designed to sit on top of your lap. But a nomad is someone who wanders - with no home. There's definitely no way a wanderer is no[t] mad.

I hate living out of a bag. I've done it before having worked at camp for every summer from age 16 til 20. It's awful. You never quite know where anything is and whatever you need is inevitably at the bottom of the bag.

Today I'm actually living out of a bag. I feel somewhat like all the clothes haphazardly strewn throughout my car/suitcase/duffel. It's like my life has been turned upside down. I never thought at 24 that I would be living so far from home, watching HGTV, blogging, and about to have an ex-husband.

How do we get here? How do we take so many small steps in one direction before we realize that we're so far away from the mark that we can't even see it anymore? I don't know, but I'm there.

Tossed around a bit. Exhausted. But alive. With a community more supportive than I could have imagined and a God bigger and beyond even what I thought I knew.

More and more I realize, the only thing that's good in me is Jesus.

"I'm Sorry" Flowers

There's some pithy phrase about diamonds are a girl's best friend that everyone knows. There should be something about flowers too. Maybe it's just me, but I'm not sure I've ever received a bouquet of flowers I loved from a significant other.

Stalker Flowers - I was 15 and a guy from the youth group I went to decided that I was to be the object of his affection. He stopped by my house on his bike (impressive because I lived like 5 miles from him up a hill on the busiest road in town) and sent me flowers. I might have let them die... or hurried the process. After all, I was 15. And not. interested.

Valentine's Day Flowers - In college, the post office would send you a fantastic email if you got mail or some kind of package. As you can imagine, at a Christian college where everyone is trying to find Mr. or Mrs. Right, Valentine's Day was one of the busiest days. I got an email that said "You've got flowers!" I was initially pretty excited... I couldn't even believe my boyfriend who didn't celebrate anything remembered Valentine's Day. I got to the post office to pick up my flowerS (emphasis on the "s" on purpose) and I get... a single rose. No card. Nothing personal. It was a flower he bought from some organization for a buck. Dear Valentine's Day, thanks for setting us up for disappointment.

No Flowers - For over 2 years of my most recent relationship, I didn't receive any flowers. None. Not even a wildflower. Or a dandelion. This might seem like it goes against everything I just wrote, but I got flowers on my first Valentine's Day and then never again. Don't start with flowers when you're trying to "woo" a girl and then never touch them again.

I'm Sorry Flowers - That same relationship I received about 4 EXPENSIVE bouquets of flowers to say "I'm Sorry." In rapid succession. Like. 2 weeks. Holy. Crap. Having never received any other flowers, these flowers only served to make me upset.

Do you see why I might hate flowers? Take note, gentleman, looking to hook a lady up with flowers. The only flowers I did NOT mention that I have NEVER received.... Random-Tuesday-Flowers. Yeah. Flowers for no reason at all except I was just thinking about you... even if you pick wild flowers... unbelievable. Any woman would melt at your extremely-thoughtful feet. Just trust me. ~*