cheers for the fearless

Source: celia-perrin-sidarous.com via Rachel on Pinterest

love at first snow. sunrise. sunset.

All the things keep happening and I can't make myself write them all out. (well I've been journaling in a real, physical journal, so there's also that) But.

I got back together with my band. Got back together with my bass. It feels electrical. And now Ashleigh is playing cello, which is bomb.
I'm stoked on this Experience the Worship thing that we're doing, and excited and encouraged about music and Jesus in general.

I just keep showing up to work.
And people can be kind of condescending that I have a degree and love to work at Starbucks. But too bad. I just love it, still.

I keep running.
I had a 21 mile a week goal, and I haven't met it since I came back from the Land of Pastries and Gnocchi, but this week I ran my fastest mile ever? It felt fantastic?

And you just keep going. 
The daytime feels great and full of life and breathing and color,
the night time feels like ripping out your own hair and slicing off your own skin and breathing becomes not a thing that you can do.
But you just keep going, and God is good either way. Because if you have something good and holy and pure....you are going to have to slay the dragons that show up to try and take it from you.

Friday quotes

"I can tell you really need to pee, you're like 3 inches taller."
-Bryan


Me: I don't want to have a wedding.
Dad: Okay, you don't have to.  You can just stay here and watch the dogs.
Me: No,  I mean I want to get married, I just don't want to have a wedding.


Me: Oh my gosh. One day Wesley is going to be thirteen and have a man's voice.
Celisse: Yeah, he'll be like, "Come on Mom, cook me some Eggos."

sliding doors

Sometimes I see clearly through the window
into the other life.

I see a fatter version of me, married to Cam. Thirty-six years old, with one kid who cries when I try to teach him mathematics.
His name is always Pedro, even though Cam and I are white.

The other me never sold out for God, in the parallel life. She quit trying. And maybe moved to West Valley.

It was really that Cam was little by little unfaithful to me, with winks and smiles to other women. To using his romance language on them.
We would get quieter, everyday to each other, and things would fall apart. I would want a vacation and  a new car, and he would want romance out of me. He would find out I was gloomy, after our vows, and would get angry when I never cleaned out the dryer lint-trap.

And this is where I am so blessed, is that the life I am living belongs to God, and that I have to check with God, before decisions like marrying Cam.

The parallel me, in other universes and predestinations...
she tries to figure out where things went wrong in her marriage, and parenthood, and career when the real me just finds new things to smile about, and realizes that all the moments can be turned into worship.
Even in painful sacrifice and flashbacks.
The me that got picked for this life seriously takes it for granted most days.

you keep saying that.

"Look, this is his ex-girlfriend's profile pictures. I can't see all of them. She may have blocked me. The only time I met her, she wouldn't shake my hand because she said it was weird. But seriously, she has changed her profile picture at least three times since I looked a couple weeks ago. Who takes pictures like this of themselves? I mean, who is taking these pictures of her, for her? Don't you think it is kind of trampy to change your profile picture so often? He told me she was a tomboy, but these pictures tell me she is trying to pick up guys at bars."

I am puzzled as to what she does in her free time. I am puzzled as to where her free time comes from, in between working this job, and the other job for the trucking company, and her demanding family time.

I wonder what the free time looks like for her. What PG rated things do she and the boyfriend do? How many sentences, out of all the sentences they say to each other, are about the ex-girlfriend? How many sentences are about their future? Do they ever doubt their plans, and if they do, is it because they think they'll get in a car crash, or is it about the ex-girlfriend, or is it because they have been bad at commitment so far?

I think a lot about other people's free time. This mainly started with Renee, when I spent 35 hours a week with her, and she wouldn't tell me any truth about her personal life.

When people walk in the door, I wonder how they got to a point in their day that put them in front of me, and I try to gauge whether they want me to be part of their day, or if I am just a machine that spits out a cup of a coffee.
Am I harbor or a bank. Are you a sailor or a pirate.

Does this person stand in front of the mirror and worry about their hair loss? Does she sit at the edge of her bed and sigh in the morning, or does she just get right up and go to the bathroom. Does he get nervous to say his coffee order, and that's why he's kind of a jerk?
What do they do in the in-between moments?

I try to make these questions mean that I see the other people as people.
But I forget sometimes,
and the people are just numbers. Especially if they keep their sunglasses on.

the first day of my life

Cinque Terra, Italy

It's hard to know what to start writing about my trip.
It was fantastic. I wish that every one I knew and love could have been there. Everything was gorgeous, and tasted great, and time slowed down, and my stomach healed, and things that never made sense started to make sense about the whole world.

Stuff like that, is what I would say.

But some things I will say as I decompress are that
1) I love America
2) I even love Utah
I was ready to come home after seventeen amazing days.

About life now

I was washing dishes at Starbucks today (is that where I have most epiphanies?) and I was realizing that real life is nice. I don't know how to explain to you what real life is. It is a combination of being done with college, and having taken every girl's dream vacation, and then what is left? What is next? I'm supposed to start some journey or career or something, but in fact, just real life by itself is nice.

On the car, driving home from a pho date with Celisse and Bryan, I thought about how people 5, 7, or 11 years older than me are just now starting over with nothing. Somewhere out there.
And I'm starting over, but not with nothing. I'm starting over with an education, and not doing drugs, and a faith and hope in Jesus, and a family that loves me.

The desires of my heart are far away and unreachable, but that's probably how I like them. I like the chase.
And it keeps me desperate for time with my maker.

So this is the first day of my life with no countdowns. To the big, white canvas waiting for me.
Real life is kind of nice.