Persevere, another twenty five years

Feeling young today, feeling hopeful.
Feeling like stretching my arm out into the future, and unafraid that it will get chopped off by a machete.

God has been answering a lot of prayers "No," or "Not right now, you crazy." But every once in a while, a surprising "Yes" comes along and your heart bursts.

I'm still just making coffee. I'm still on a roller coaster that might be trippin' balls tomorrow, but God is faithful to me, and I will remain steadfast in Him.

Living it up

The doctor put her stethoscope up to my heart and told me to breathe in and out. She listened for a long moment.

"I'm afraid I was right, you are a monster."

"I was worried about that," I said, thinking what this would do to my copay.

"And your ears are crooked," she said. 

I can't stop loving you, I made up my mind

After everything, sometimes what you have to do is turn up Ray Charles and just let go and be enveloped in the romance of what can and can't happen in one lifetime.

fever song

I stayed a little longer at work today, in the air conditioning.

I know we are only a few weeks into the heat, but I am tired now. The same tired as finals week. The tired at the end of a 12 mile run. The tired where you blink for a second, and your eyes don't open back up. That is summer, to me.

God has been giving me a grace to keep going, though. Interesting little things here or there to keep my eyes awake. 

A conversation with an atheist coworker who says he doesn't think he has ever met a creationist, besides me? It breaks my heart, but increases my boldness. To be kind, to be joyful, to show light.

A second interview that I feel peaceful about, whether or not I get the job.

A new perfume.

Iced espresso with dark caramel.

A best friend who wants me to try a billion pie recipes.

Steak nights with my dad.

Praying with abandon: not hiding anything from God, whether or not saying these things out loud is going to end in weeping or desperation.

It feels clean, amidst the sweaty battles that we are fighting. Amidst hurt and hurt and hurt after hurt.

In the tired comes the blessing that it is very easy to start laughing.

i know you like to captain a capsized ship

What you don't end up knowing is: the heroes.

Every week, there is some new and terrible way that your friends or loved ones are letting everyone down, and it makes you doubt your faith.
But what you don't know is that for each of them, there is another friend who is fighting the good fight.

Making their marriage work.
Getting out of bed to take care of their kids.
Reading their Bible even though they don't want to.
Going to work with a headache.
Choosing to stay in Utah.


These things aren't as hard as starving in a 3rd world country, or watching your house be demolished by a tornado.  But it is still duty, and it is still honorable.

This is the end of a very long week, and He will give me rest, I know.

the Army

Several times a day, I breathe in deeply and whisper to myself, "You are a soldier. You can do this."

There are a lot of things that keep me from joining the army. But my heart seeks the structure and the discipline and the place.

I feel placeless.

I am a little weak. I know my place and my identity are in Christ, but this is a daily struggle. The sleeplessness, the hopes deferred, and the flimsy armor I've been carrying don't help. But my foundation is firm. And this can't last forever.


"For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline."
 2 Timothy 1:7

generally speaking

the sun was on the rise

I looked out over the airplane wing on Wednesday and thought I'd come back all bright and shiny like someone had erased my hard drive and I'd have all this beautiful RAM and I'd be efficient and taller and more likeable and stop getting angry and stop watching TV and

mostly I just sort of stopped eating once I got here, and definitely stopped sleeping.

I've actually been having great times with my friends at night, but then I get home and lay in bed and wait for sleep to come. And then I work tired all day, but my thoughts are racing when I come home for my post-Starbucks nap.

I think of my to-do list and look at the wall.
I'm a little overwhelmed, but positive.

God is giving me small joys to make it through hours. Surprising moments of opening the front door at 4:20 am and seeing that is raining, lightly.
A customer who notices that I was gone and whose face lights up when he sees that I am back.
A favorite old song coming on the random Starbucks playlist, and sweet girls who want to shoot espresso shots with me and laugh at my jokes.

Anyway. Here are some pictures of our family farm, and the Heaven I left to come back to the desert.
There is hope to go back, and there is hope to be here.
To do good work.
To be bright and shiny.