God, i won't give up on believing that i'm on the verge of something - that this family is on the verge of something. just because it hurts, i won't give up.

It smells like summer. Fresh-cut lawns, humidity, food being grilled, heat. It's glorious.

Part of me wants my winter back.
Call me a weirdo; it's not like I haven't heard it before.

edit;

i truly hate my life right now.
[& still being an angsty teenager is part of my charm.]

i wish i were a bird.
i wish i were a tree.
i wish i were a flower.
i wish i were the sea.
'cause the heart of all creation
only cries out one name;
savior, master, maker:
every breath is the same.

i am josephine in hiding.
i am old before my time.
i am lost in a clear path.
i am rhythm with no rhyme.
i am hope without dreams.
i am living in fiction.
i am contrast.
i am contradiction.

i'm going to sing.
i have to pray about this.

the pulling in my heart is making me feel crazy.
i'm intimidated, shaking in my shoes, knees knocking.

i'm going to sing.
forever and ever, amen.

&edit;

i want to scream until my throat is raw.
i want to beat my fists on the cold ground.
i want to run away and never look back.
i want to cry and rub my eyes until my lids bleed.
i want to be a skeleton.
i want to be reckless and stupid and self-indulgent.
i want it all to make sense.

i am so angry.
i am so resentful.
i am so selfish.

today's word: outré oo-TRAY, adjective: Unconventional; eccentric; bizarre. {i ♥ dictionary.com.} 

the clouds above are fat with precipitation, and though they're only shedding a bit of it, i find myself wishing that it was snow instead of rain. that's probably peculiar, since it's spring. but it doesn't feel like spring yet - it's far too cold.

i woke up today barely ready to be awake. mom asked me kindly if i'd drive the kids to school. i said yes. so i did, in my pajamas and my favorite hoodie. i didn't even bother brushing my teeth. i hope i wasn't choking my family by talking to them... i tend to respect personal space, so i doubt it, but it still makes me wonder.

i hear birds chirping quite loudly outside of the little nearby windows. i'm in the basement, and the gray-filtered sunlight spills down the stairs. jon foreman is singing about God invading his heart & this broken town. today, my heart is still, my head is aching, and my stomach is on the verge of a vicious growl.

today is basically a lay-in-the-grass, or curl-up-with-a-book [or a daydream] mixtape day. iron & wine, jon foreman, glen hansard, ella & louis, and just a light dusting of marjorie fair and a pinch of saosin.

i still have a ton of laundry to do. but slowly but surely, it's getting done. ugh; i keep hitting the touchpad when i'm typing and it's rearranging my words. i have to be doing something wrong; something is off with my technique.

 i am in love with Little Women; it's amazing and i'm only halfway through. i haven't really been able to sit down and read consistantly, either my brain wanders or i have something else that needs done. i'm trying to soak it in, too. i ordered Little Men from an Amazon seller last night; it's the 1913 edition, i believe, and i can't wait for it to get here so i can smell it.

well, reader, i hope your day is marvelous. thanks for reading about my boring morning. :]

i find myself desiring to write, write, write.
that's what happens when i read. it stirs my soul.
if i didn't have to work, i'd be finishing Little Women,
and then doing character sketches of people i know.

but alas, i work 3-close, on stamping tuesday.

i also find myself wanting to write letters, to my friends who don't live close to me. sometimes my hands just itch to put ink to paper, despite growing up in the digital age where i've been gaining computer experience since i was very small - and reveling in the marvels of technology.

i don't know. i say (and have been told) that i was born in the wrong decade. i'd go so far as to say i was born in the wrong era. today, i brought it up to my sister, and she said, "or this era has it all wrong." i think she's right. i think the more we slip into our godless state the more we lose sight of our original purposes.

i'm definitely not a feminist, so if you happen to be one, don't bother telling me how ridiculous i am or how closed-minded i sound. i can honestly tell you that i've seen the lives of feminist women, and they don't interest me in the least. they may be content, and power to them, but in spite of their grand accomplishments, i see things that they are missing, too. i'm speaking of the feminist movement as a generic whole, mind you, i'm not singling anyone out. and i'm all for being independent and not letting men abuse women and women having a voice in society - i'm not an idiot, i see the good things [including ones i haven't mentioned here] that have come out of the women's rights movement. but i see its detriments, also. i don't even know where all of that came from. i'm just sort of buzzing with thought and i have no gift for segue. the original point i was making was, on days like today when i'm content to be making a quick lunch for my mother and i, cleaning up after it, and reading in between too many loads of laundry, i wonder what's so bad about being a housewife. i don't mean the whole blinged-out, camera-loving whoredom that the word now has associated with it... i mean the old-fashioned definition. a woman who loves taking care of her family and making that her goal in life. i don't know. i know it isn't glamorous, and i know it's thankless, but i can't wait to be a wife and mother. i want to be married. i want sons [and/or daughters, that's up to God, but i want a son first if i have my wish]. that's always been my dream. of course, i'd love to continue writing and reading and sketching and singing and taking pictures, but i don't think the kind of man i want to marry would begrudge me my loves, and i don't see how those would interfere with a healthy family life.

i'm just full of wistful thoughts and sighs today. i won't ask forgiveness for my blathering. because you didn't have to read it, you know. ;]

oh, God, it should've been me that day, between those thieves. thank You for this love that i will never comprehend, or could ever deserve. i see it every day and still don't understand. let me never unravel the mystery. let me always pursue it anyway. may i never believe that my heart could contain it.

[Father, well, i am ready / won't You let it begin? / 'cause i am here now / i want to dance in / the bloody palm of Your hand.]

i drove home from work tuesday night with 'yours' by steven curtis chapman blaring, tears streaming down my face before i even realized. mostly because of the fourth verse he added to the song for his five-year-old daughter Maria who died last year.

I've walked the valley of death's shadow,
So deep and dark that I could barely breathe.
I've had to let go of more than I could bear,
And questioned everything that I believe.
But still even here,
in this great darkness,
A comfort and hope come breaking through -
As I can say, in life or death:
God, we belong to You.

right now my heart is broken for my second cousin Lori, and i can only imagine how much pain she is in - watching her husband suffer through glass so that she doesn't make him sick; unable to touch him, to sit by him, to really be with him. he has a myriad of problems right now, but the thing i find amazing is that the doctors and nurses say his 'heart is strong'. they mean his physical heart, of course, in comparison to the tumor in his head and the disease in his lungs and the blood clots in his legs. his white blood cells are for naught and they won't let Lori come in and be near him, let alone touch him, for fear he will get an infection. i came inside and got those details from my mom and just sat on the kitchen floor. i couldn't even cry.

i'm not angry. which is strange. i usually get mad first. but i'm not angry, or even upset. i'm just sad. my heart is just broken. i don't understand but i don't think i ever will.

see, the second i started questioning almost four years ago, i was mad. i wanted to know why. i wanted understanding. i shook my fists and beat them on the ground and screamed and cried.

then lately it's been the opposite. i don't care. i still don't know, so don't want to know. i don't care if i ever understand. but that isn't peace. it's just numbness.

but most recently, i'm starting to care again. care about others. care about their concerns. wanting to be there and to share in the burden of their pain or even their loss.

how misunderstood my gift of emptiness always was. "i have nothing left to give," i'd whine, tears streaming down my face. "i'm sucked dry. i am a barren well."

but what better place to be than completely devoid of any strength, any power, any insight? how else can God give me things to share? if i'm full of my own ideas, my own dreams, my own advice, where does He fit?

God, i can't stop CRYING.


i've been listening to good old steven, and to kim walker, and chris quilala. old relient k songs, and shane & shane. things i've been turning my nose up and away from, old loves. things that used to move me. because... they were too painful to try and touch.

but i'm tired of hiding from the pain, in my colorless, feeling-free shell. "and You said, 'i know that this will hurt - but if I don't break your heart, things will just get worse.'" and worse they have gotten. so my life is living proof that those words are truth. [sidenote; matt t. can be silly and all, but he is incredibly deep, and i think he has stayed in touch with his core despite the fame he's received.]

and if i'm honest with myself, i feel more alive listening to words that really matter. secular music has its time and place, and many songs that weren't necessarily written for Christ have pointed me to Him. but wow, the difference in my heart is sort of staggering.

granted, i'm still me. i still get irritated, i still slip and swear, i still make stupid decisions. but i'm starting to feel different. and that's... interesting.

the point i was getting to, though, had surprisingly nothing to do with any song.

i pulled into the driveway after work, through tears, and saw the April sunset glaring through the falling snow, and i laughed. it's April, i said. Spring. EASTER is this coming SUNDAY. WHY IS IT SNOWING?

because only He can choose.
only His timing works.

that's why when i prayed tonight at four o'clock that kids would come, none came instantly. it wasn't one of those miraculous, '..and then five minutes later, kids came.' moments. no, i had to wait. i worked, cleaning things, until kids showed up an hour and a half later. first it was just our usual little boy who comes every day (that's another story for another time, though.)... then i had a full house. eight kids. and i had to flip that "full to capacity" sign over, like, three times because it kept filling up.

but it wasn't instant gratification.
it wasn't right when i wanted it.
i had to wait.
i had to pace.
i had to clean.
i had to work.
i had to sigh.
i had to feel the drooping of my own eyes.

and then they came like a flood.


i really, really just need to grasp that.
because if i could take that concept, and put it in a needle, and inject it into my bloodstream, i would. maybe then my brain and my heart would both get it at the same time.

until then, i'm wrestling my way to an impasse between understanding, and peace without it.

    to You, i give my future,
    as long as it may last.
    to You, i give my present;
    to You, i give my past.

    ...this is no sacrifice, here's my life.