Earl Grey Gets Me High and Other New Discoveries

After ten-odd years of drinking coffee every morning, nearly without fail, I got up today and thought: "I'd like some Earl Grey this morning, instead."

The change was inspired by two things, the first being that I discovered I had grown bored with life, which is unacceptable for a Creative like me. I had been thinking it was time to make some changes, try some new things, breathe life deeply again, and find the magic. The second, and probably foundational inspiration, is that I met a guy from Seattle who claims that tea is better. The mere suggestion that I may be missing out on the best was enough to unsettle my security about coffee. What if I was wrong?

This morning was cold, and clear, and deeply beautiful. In this city surrounded by mountains, all the leaves changing and dropping, the wind playful, the rain unpredictable, the sun and clouds fighting for rein over the sky, I can't help but fall in love with Autumn in it's height of glory. My heart responds without effort. It was just one of those mornings that called for a break from the usual, and so I decided to have a cup of tea.

I made it in my French press, because I don't yet own a strainer, and started work. It warmed my fingers, like the coffee, and tasted delicious. My morning felt complete. An hour and a half later, I felt the buzz.

As it turns out, the body processes caffeine differently in tea than it does in coffee. I did not know this. So, even after a decade of steady, daily caffeine, I overdosed on one large, strong cup of Earl Grey. I literally had to take a break from work until my head stopped spinning, and I quelled the urge to call random people and sing to them.

I am convinced, by now, that meeting new people and building relationship is one of the greatest joys we have on this earth. It is refreshing to see life from another perspective. I am curious now about Seattle, and all the sights and sounds of it. I am eager to try the fantastically wide variety of teas that I now notice on shelves I used to pass right by. I am learning about religions I had never thought to give a second thought to. I am discovering how to share all of the best and worst of myself with someone new. In the blink of an eye, from one simple introduction, I am changed, and growing into an even better me.

I am eager, now, for new experience, new friends, and new days. Taking a break from the ordinary, and opening up to beautiful new, might just be the best way to steer your life away from terrifying mediocrity. I invite you to try a new cup of tea, in a manner of speaking. You never know when it might be the best you've yet tasted.

Every Purpose Under Heaven

I watched a leaf fall today, the wind spinning and tossing it about before it finally reached ground, and skittered along the pavement to find a resting place beside my car. I suddenly felt solemn, as I often do in Autumn, viewing the blatant beauty of death, and weighing it against the promise of the life that is to come.

I have lived long enough, and seen enough seasons by now to know that Spring, and new life, always comes. It is no longer faith, but mere expectation. Growing older, you gain wisdom, you learn the way things are... but you have to be careful not to lose your sense of wonder in the process. I feel that mine is threatened at all times.

I like to read Ecclesiastes this time of year. It is a stunningly beautiful bit of literature. I am searching different translations to find the the one I love most. But I recommend sitting down and reading it, in it's entirety, while sitting outside letting the leaves let go of life around you.

I don't want to be one of those fragile old women who weeps at everything, but I will be brave enough to say that, on my break today, with the breeze, and the leaves, and the poetry of the Bible at my fingertips, I shed a few tears as I thought about it all... life, and death, and the changing seasons... toiling under the sun, and the vanity of it all. I desire so deeply to leave some fingerprints behind when I go. I fear that I may never learn how.

I often think of my grandmother these days. I suppose it only natural, this being the first full season without her. But I see her in everything. I remember her every time the sun clears the wall of trees outside my window, and for a few brief moments of the morning, reaches through to touch my face with warmth. Every now and again, for just a second, I will start to remind myself to call her, and then realize... and painful as it is, part of me dreads the day when I stop doing that, too.

To everything, there is a season...

What this season holds, or what it's purpose may be, I cannot fully guess. I know only that I am being shaped, that I am growing, that I can see myself a little more clearly these days. Once again, I open my heart to Autumn, I drink in all the sight and scent of it. I take a lesson from the leaves, and try to let go, and see where the wind will take me.

I must learn to let go... so that a few seasons away, I can see the new life growing freely. I think I have enough faith to trust that there really is a time for every purpose under heaven.

A Blank Page

Well, here I am again, trying to write but not finding myself with the clarity, creativity, or perhaps the inspiration to. Sometimes I need to write, but the words won't come at all, and sometimes they spill over my fingers like too much water in a small glass. Most of the time I feel that I just can't get it all down quickly enough, before it disappears. I catch a glimpse of the creative, but then it vanishes before I can pin it down.

I have had a lot of people ask me, lately, what I am writing, and I try to dress up my answer and make it look pretty. I am tempted to say what they want to hear and not what's real. The truth of the matter is, that I used to see a blank page and I could fill it past the margins with potential. Now, when I see a blank page I see a reflection of the creative side of my mind, staring back at me.

Blank. Ready for action, but currently sporting only potential, and no words. Is it mere writer's block, a quarter-life crisis, a simple matter of being out of practice? I wish I knew. I wish, also, that I knew my way out.

I guess all writers have to pen a lot of nothing before they can reveal something of value. I have never really known if I have anything that is worth putting down into permanence. That is the beautiful and terrifying thing about writing... the potential for permanence.

Perhaps I am still searching for what needs to be said most. I need organization in my mind that I have never found. I tend to spill everything, and then edit to see if there is treasure buried under all that mess somewhere...

That seems like the theme of my life these days... trying to find the treasure among the mess. Here's to making messes, and hunting for buried treasure!

The Other Girl

Some days it just doesn't take much beyond the normal stress we endure as humans to push us over the edge. I have been worried about making ends meet, fixing my car, about somehow, some day, making some sort of future for myself... though when I am being really honest I have no idea how... and with that weighing heavy on my heart it didn't take much else.

It was just a text. Just a comment, made by a close friend, intended as a joke. And usually I can take a joke at least as well as anyone, if not better. Growing up with a brother and all the neighborhood boys taught me how to have a fairly thick skin to surround this tender heart of mine. But tonight I just needed a kind word, and I got the opposite. I just wanted to know that I was more than what I felt, and instead I was reminded of what I lack.

Perhaps a large part of it is my fault, for taking a bleeding heart to another broken human and expecting acceptance. But we are all stuck here together, til Kingdom Come, so sometimes other broken humans seem the logical choice. I don't know how to make it through a day here without some bumps and bruises to show for it. Maybe I'm just doing it wrong somehow, but that is life as I know it.

The Bible says we have the power of life and death in our words. Tonight I believe it is true, without doubt. I feel death shoving its greedy fingers into the hurt and lonely places in me, and I can't seem to get them out. Perhaps another glass of water and a good night's sleep will clear my head, but what will it take to clear the pain out of my heart? I feel a little lost and bewildered.

It was just a simple joke about another girl being prettier than I. But we live in a world where nothing is ever good enough, where there is always someone prettier, and richer, and better. I know by now, especially after this year, that we live in a world where I may never be enough. I am trying to face that reality bravely. I am trying to forgive, to move on. I am trying to be the best me that I can be, despite who I am not. But I am oh, so weary of longing to be the other girl...

I don't have much resolution for you tonight. Just a few tears that were 27 years in the making. I lie down and pray for healing tonight, and that one day a guy might look at me and not just see what I lack. Someday, maybe, someone will look right past the other girl and see me.

Grandma

May 29, 2010

To say that I'm not good at goodbyes is a serious understatement. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and regularly suffer the consequences of it. But I can't seem to help myself. There are times, occasionally, when I am grateful that I do. I suppose today is one of them.

We found out recently that my dear Grandma is very sick. This may be the last year we have with her. I still can't wrap my brain around it, and my heart is nowhere near following the news. Everything in me says we were never made for this. But oh, how sweet a reunion heaven will be! You never realize how much, until you lose someone... I guess that is just the way of it.

The hardest thing about this is not knowing how much longer we've got. Months? Years? Maybe days only. Right now she is napping in her chair just inside, and I could walk right in there and give her a hug if I want. We chatted over lunch today, and she told me more than once how proud of me she is, and it was just a beautiful day full of life and laughter and conversation.

It is strange to me to think that, very soon, time will move us past the point where we can just sit and talk. Someday, maybe not too far from here, she will have moved on to some other place, and I won't get to hug her, I won't get to make her laugh, or hear the “I'm proud of you, girl” until I have also left this space. So much to think about, and so much I don't know.

Life is such a crazy, unknowable thing. God must be such a crazy God to set us all down here, and let go, and let everything just take it's course. The living, the dying, the sinning, and the extraordinary love. Crazy, crazy Life and crazy God!

I have come so far this year, and learned so much. I don't care what anybody says about where I am (it seems everyone has had an opinion about me of late), I know that I am changed, I know that I am growing, I know, at long last, that I am okay just being me. I am finally someone I want to be around.

Grandma said this morning that when you're by yourself, at least you know you're in good company. She said it with that smile, with that dry sense of humor. And I felt a burst of love for her, something I wouldn't trade for anything. She has lived well, and shared herself well with us. I hope someday, that I am like her, that I can take these memories of her into the rest of my life. That someday, I may grow old and start to drift into the Otherworld, and someone who loved me may stay behind and want to love as I did. I hope I have someone to pass the love down to...

God, I want to write so badly. I want to share it all with the world. I want somehow to connect all the pieces and fill in all the cracks with life and connect us all through these words. I want to leave behind something that matters. Oh, sweet Life, I want to fit you into words that people relate to, and grow from, and live a little deeper because of.

This house, I will never forget. There used to be a tree out here, that I loved. It is gone now, but like Grandma, it will always be part of me. It's purpose has been fulfilled in my life, and I will take it with me wherever I go. I spent my childhood underneath it's branches, dreaming. I was part of it and it was part of me, and now we are inseparable. Someday I will write it into my stories and others will know a little piece of it too. That is the way of things. We live, and we share, and we move on to another part of life and leave the rest behind us. We take with us some of the things we want, or need, and let go of what we don't. I am finally learning to accept this cycle. I am not so afraid of the loss anymore.

So much to remember, and to set down for others to know too. The woods out here, so full of mystery in my childhood, are always the woods that come to mind when I read. Most likely I will never explore them again, they are part of the past now, and they will always be the place where the unknown exists and thrives. I believe without a doubt that the door to Narnia, or Wonderland, or some other strange and wonderful place lies within them. I may never find it now, but it is enough to believe it is there.

This house is full of things that sparkle. That is something I will always remember. The little figurines that sparkle, like the sparkle in her eyes. This is a beautiful, beautiful little piece of life I am living. I do not believe I will ever forget this.

The dogwood tree is gone now, too. The one that was always the backdrop for Easter pictures, all of us squinting in the sunlight, and ready for playclothes and southern cooking and football in the yard. I used to play with the boys for awhile, and then get distracted by the hunt for a four-leafed clover, or that swing that I never thought I could outgrow.

I have always loved the house across the street, with the red roof and the double chimneys. I have always wanted to know what's inside. Part of me is glad I don't now. Sometimes the experience of mystery is better than the mystery revealed.

The rocking chairs on the porch have aged, to where they are barely usable. I noticed when I was here last, that that tiny chair where I used to place whatever stuffed animal I was most attached to, has gotten weathered, and will most likely be thrown out before long.

What is the purpose of our lives, I wonder? Were we just meant to live out our days, and come home to Jesus, and do the best we can? I think that's what I've been doing of late... just existing. I don't know if it's enough, but honestly I don't want or expect anything from Grandma. I just want her to be her. I don't need her to do anything, I simply want relationship with her while she's here. I try so hard sometimes to be something or earn something... and I wonder if God doesn't just want me to be me, and nothing else. I bet he just loves me like I am, and doesn't need me to try.

Oh, how I am not ready to let her go. I think this is helping, though. Just being here, just writing a bit, and thinking about her and all the memories here. I hope and pray we get another Christmas. But I am confident about life in the future now. I am confident that living is enough, and I get to choose to some degree the how and where I am living. But living and loving and sharing may well be the point. And I am ready to do more of it.

I am ready to be a writer now. This year has been tough on me, and I have lost a lot of dreams I thought were just about to come true. I thought it was the end, and now I know... somehow, in this space, I know it is not. I know that it doesn't matter so much as I thought. I know that my life isn't ending now, that there is much more to be lived. And it's okay if it takes me a little longer to fall in love. I think it will be okay in the end after all.

I am looking forward to being on my own again, to connecting within myself. To writing, and loving God, and facing life bravely. This next season might just be the sweetest of my life. And I am ready. I am not quite so scared of life as I used to be. I think this season of self loathing and uncertainty is almost over. I am ready to embrace life, and embrace myself, and just be me. I think that is all I am supposed to be anyway.

Man, I remember the taste of rock candy here. I remember frilly, handmade curtains and butterflies and soap operas. This is a good home, and I am more okay with my life now. I am glad this is part of me.

I am glad, too, that she is moving on. No more struggling to get around. And if God is who he says he is, it will all be okay. She will be loved and taken care of, and we will see her again before long. We are so, so blessed. Because one day, we will be called Home. That memory of home that was imprinted in our hearts, that we've tried all of our lives to recreate here. God will call us by our names, and lead us home, and we will finally be together again. I trust him, right now, more than I normally do. I think his plan is alright. I think he knows what he's doing. I think we're in better hands than we imagine.

This is a beautiful, sunny day, and I love to just sit outside and write. What am I thinking, not doing this more often? I can do this pretty much whenever I like, I don't know why I don't. I think God is here, today, holding my heart and leading me through this. This trip may well be my goodbye, or at least the beginning of it. And I know right now that he is here too, and has not left my side.

Oh, how life will never be the same again! But that is how things progress, and more life waits around the corner. New life. And it will all be okay. We all have to move on someday.

I will miss that little church, and the unique way we sang “He Lives”. I already miss dresses with lace and bold color and sitting through a sermon that felt just a little too long. Ham with that brown sugar glaze and deviled eggs, and fantastic little rolls that leave me stuffed. Hard to believe it is all passing by, it is almost behind us. You never know, in the middle of them, the moments that are most important. But somehow they know to go ahead and hang on, in your memory, and you never really lose them.

Strange that life led me here, to this porch, when my grandmother was moving on to Heaven, to let me know that I am a writer. I know, right now, that I am. That I am born to be, meant to be, that no amount of publishing matters. I will write, and leave it behind, and someone else will find it. And it just matters. We don't even have to know why. I only know it does. God made me a writer, and I write. And that is all.

It feels good just to get it out. I don't know why I stopped. I hope I never stop writing again. I hope I do this every day, for the rest of my life... and time will make sense of it all someday. I don't have to know where the story is going yet. Only that it is still going.

Tomorrow, they will get here... Chris, and Lisa, and share with me in this. I wish Keri could be here, but circumstances did not allow her to be. It is funny how much a part of each other's lives we all are. I love them more deeply than I knew I could. Sometimes you don't even know, until you stop to think deeply about the lives around you.

And I know, now, that I am lovable. I haven't really known, this whole year. It has been a question in my mind for some time now, especially since... he... didn't choose to, and I cared oh, so much for him. I thought that maybe I wasn't lovable. But that is ridiculous. And someone will see it someday, and it doesn't even matter who doesn't see it. That doesn't change who I am at all.

He is crazy for missing out on me. I am many things, and I am a bundle of unfinished business even, but I am not unlovable. I really don't know what he's thinking. He could have been part of this with me. He could have met my Grandma, and been here for me through this. But his choices have led him down some other road, and it is one I don't care to follow unless I'm invited. And at this point, maybe not even then. Life is so very strange, though. I waited so long to fall in love, and still picked the wrong guy. But none of that matters now, I suppose.

I don't know why or how I'm supposed to make it alone. But here I go :)

Altar

I am ready for sweet, summer days; for sunshine on my skin, feeling weightless in water, and hiking epiphanies... wisdom that only the woods can offer. My soul has grown weary of hunching in the cold, and is reaching out for change and growth and beauty I have yet to grasp. I am ready to let go of dead winter and see what comes, alive and new with spring. I am ready to be new again, too.

This week I discovered a pair of alternative folk musicians called You and Yourn, and they have changed me. I bought their album, and I have listened to it on repeat daily since it was purchased. I can't get enough... like a new relationship, when there is so much to discover that there never seems to be an adequate amount of time in the day. I am committing lyrics and melodies to memory, and singing along. It is by no mistake that I found them in this season. They are helping me let go.

I've found myself in a rather desolate place lately. It can probably be labeled depression, and I can probably get some pills to make it seem less enormous, but there are no cures for the underlying questions. They are meant to be asked.

I don't know that I even want to spell it all out. But I am putting my desires on an altar and watching them go up in smoke, because I found something better than even financial security, travel, marriage, a writing career... all of the things I thought I wanted so deeply.

Like Abraham with Isaac, I don't know what the outcome will be, or if I will be asked to sacrifice the things most precious to me. But I discovered that I already hold the keys to an unexplored kingdom and I can't be content with just these things anymore. Someone cracked open a door I didn't know was there, and the world I am in is now pale in comparison to the light spilling through...

I cannot go back. But all the stuff I've brought with me can't go where I am going. So I leave it here in embers and turn and face whatever is just beyond that door...

Faith is a radiant and terrifying adventure. But once it has gotten ahold of you, ordinary no longer satisfies. I want more.

Last Girl on Earth

I had a dream this weekend that helped me gain understanding about myself. I was alone on Earth; there was no one else, only me. I was just alone, taking care of myself, and wasn't worried about anything, or anyone else. I simply took joy in having sweet time...

I didn't have to work, so I finally had time to travel (apparently everything just worked electronically, planes, buses, etc. ...I love fantasy!). I wasn't afraid of what could happen to me, I didn't wonder if I would have enough money to make ends meet this year. I finally got to read all the books I want to read. I had time to write, and didn't have the fear of it being "good enough" or better than so-and-so's writing. I didn't have to live up to anybody's standards, or be the kind of girl that he would want...

During the dream I felt a sense of peace like I haven't known in a long time. I realized, upon waking, that I still care so much about what people think that it is almost crippling. I thought I had come a long way in that area, but it seems that lately I've been slipping back into the oblivion of self consciousness. I'm not entirely sure just yet how to get myself out of it.

Despite what I may want, I know that the nature of my humanity means that I will never be fully satisfied. So it is no surprise (or shouldn't be) that I am a touch unhappy with my job, that I am not too sure I want to be single, that I don't know exactly what I want or how to get there if I did know. These complaints are echoed by potentially millions. Does anybody know what to do about it, though? Even the wisest man on earth said: "All is vanity..." There is a little mix of comfort and despair in that for me.

I took a heart-wrenching walk down memory lane this past weekend, and my desperate need for some alone time to think through it all may have been what sparked such a thought-provoking respite of a dream. Perhaps I just need to take more time to myself, to get away, to think and write and just be. But I also feel such a deepening need for time with people, to get out, and talk, and laugh, and stop being too introspective... how do you know what you truly need most?

One of my best friends calls me an extroverted introvert. I think the creative nature in me pushes me towards division when it comes to categorizing these things. I get my energy from being alone, focusing in on whatever I am writing or creating, and also in being with people, learning and growing from them. It changes depending on the need of the moment. This morning, I only needed alone time. Right now, I am glad that there are others around me. And I have always been this way.

Coffee shops provide the perfect atmosphere for people such as myself. I can zone out and get lost in my writing, and in the next second look up and start a conversation with the guy next to me. I feel like I am going to be spending a lot more time here in the coming months...

I guess the good news in all of this is that I think I am finally unafraid of being alone. I have wanted to achieve this for so long now, and I think I have finally made progress. I know for certain that I am going to be paying much closer attention to how I am living my life in reaction to what other people think or say, and work on not being so afraid of rejection. My time alone with myself, though only in a dream, taught me that I'm not so terrible to be around :)

What is next? I never know. I am hoping and praying for change to come. My soul is growing restless again. I never know whether I should tame it or set it free.

I wonder... if I were the last girl on earth... would I know my story better?