What Inspires You?

I received a text from my roomie the other day apologizing for The Morning Grumps, in which she additionally noted "I wish I was a morning person like you!" Sometimes my day-to-day operates in such tunnel zone Autopilot that I forget the uniqueness of each individual (hello... egocentric self.) ;) Do I like mornings? Yes. But I forget mornings are not everyone's Thing. It's like when you grow up doing pizza & Chinese on Sunday nights, so you naturally believe it's the foundational tradition of every family... Only to find that some families do Mexican or others don't do anything; each one to their own routines establishing who they are.

I see you sun!

For as long as I can remember, mornings have been my source of Inspiration. Living in a Spanish culture of contrast revealed this soul-giving time like nothing else could - this margin of the day when my thoughts were set free and my spirit could settle. I remember 9am walks in El Parque Magdalena watching lights flicker on the interior of apartments in the distance, feeling as though I was witnessing magic; imagining I was the only one awake to gaze upon the earth returning to life.

Walks to Heritage and occasional stops for pie at a neighborhood fave.

Although I pass people on the street at 6am in Chicago, the night still lingers before the morning passes through. The sun arises as a new day brims and hope seems tangible. Now that it's spring, the possibilities seem more fervent. I awake to an early morning alarm to set off for a lakefront run or brisk walk to Heritage Coffee. Spring, oh spring... glimmers of warmth fill the earth as thawed bones are restored to life.

Sunrises over the Lake. I love you Chicago.

Right Now

There seems to come a point in every winter when I no longer wash my hair (because hello - hats!), realize I've worn the same pair of leggings for about a week (to work AND sleep), and would rather watch Netflix marathons of Friends then go out to... basically anywhere. Truth be told, on Friday eve it took a lot of convincing to peel ourselves out of our perfectly molded crevices on the couch, turn off our shared and blanketed heater, and brave the melting snow trenches to meet our friends for drinks at Revolution Brewery.

Winter Survival is artisan soups & breads from Chicago chefs - donation based -
promoting community in our neighborhood in the depths of winter

Folk tunes paired with wine was a lovely Sunday eve in celebration of my dad's birthday.

At this point, all concerns are merited... What exactly happens to us Chicagoans in these dreary months?! Whoever argues with the validity of S.A.D, I am here to tell you it is a REAL thing people.

Daylight Savings means sunrise runs on the lake.
< Unfiltered! >

This weekend though - the sun began to shine and a friendly glow broke through the cloudy haze hovering over our city. It is always an indicator that spring is on its way when Southport strolls become a place for hello's to neighbors and cars pause for others with gracious waves allowing for a peaceful merge. Also, I may or may not have gotten a sun tan from a 20-minute phone call with my bro while tilting my face up to the window from the couch inside my apartment. Which is either deeply pathetic or absolutely lovely, depending on your outlook this season.

This weekend, I mapped out my trek across the country from May-June.
I think I'll call it Rebecca's Driving Tour of Married Friends.
;)

Yesterday was 38 degrees and I went running in shorts and this weekend is supposed to be 50's, which means we are basically planning for a Beach Day. In all other parts of the world, it seems that Weather is the mundane topic you talk about when there's nothing else to say, but here in The City of Six Months of Winter, weather.is.everything. When the sun starts to shine and the birds begin to sing, somehow life seems that much more manageable. It's no longer a hustle and a pep talk of "I can do this" as your bare feet hit the cold floor in the dark of the morning, rather it's ditching the puffer coat for a vest and celebrating the sun at 6:30pm indicating a full evening ahead.

I spent last Friday exploring with this dear friend of mine, Lindsay.
Linds and her husband Dave are involved in the most incredible ministry on the South Side.

I hold this time sacred; my thesis is on pause for Life After Comps, my daydreams drift to windows down and music blaring on a summer drive across the country, and I am mid-contract-signing for a dream offer with Mosaic in the fall. In this season of Winter on the Cusp of Spring, it seems everyone lives in the feeling of anticipation. And I like that feeling... I like knowing there are surprises to come and something great around the corner. I enjoy the gentle rhythm that coaxes my hibernating soul; there is a time for Netflix Binges and a time for Beach BBQ's, there is a time for cubicle studying and a time for marathon training, there is a time for Bachelor Watch Parties and a time for Music Mondays, there is a time for solitude and a time for community... All things happen in the push & pull of sun and clouds, snow and rain, wine and margaritas;) As we await Easter, it is essentially this anticipation of All Things New in spring that teaches us of the Death and Resurrection... that shows us to mourn for His death and to celebrate His life. The movements of the world and all of creation point us to Him, our Creator King.

Yes, those are two cop cars parked outside the Lily.
Just in case you're wondering if the Crazy Pam situation is still on the loose...
 Here's evidence. 

A Case for the Lily

Since moving into my apt (known as The Lily) in December 2010, my former roommate Betsy and I have construed stories regarding our middle-age, chain-smoking, should-be-on-an-episode-of-Horders, Korean neighbor who shares our two-flat on the bottom floor. An excessive amount of brand name packages arriving at our doorstep in her name combined with a locked and secluded portion of the basement dedicated to "beads" was the impetus to our curiosity. When friends would ask about her, we flippantly spewed off fragments of stories we conjured from late-night rounds of laundry in a basement stacked with antiques: she was married to a foreign ambassador, traveled the world, divorced, has a secret family, lived in Mexico, and possibly has emergency funds buried at the bottom of Lake Michigan. The tales we told were more or less true for us, and the line between fact and fiction seemed blurred in a way that invited us to live in a realm of possibilities.

Lily exterior.

What primarily began to tip us off about Pam wasn't just her denial of owning a cat when our house suddenly wreaked of dirty litter or her Estate Sale filled with thousand dollar furs or her newly acquired purple hair or her car revoked for "unknown reasons" or her changing the outside locks five or six times or only seeing her leave the house when she incessantly shouted for her dog in the yard... Rather, it is a case involving unmerited accusation causing us to question whether or not we should continue living in our dear Lily home.

Lily interior: my desk.

After a range of harassing texts regarding "disappearing crystal," conversations alluding to us as suspects of stealing, and threats to "evict us" scrawled on post-it notes tacked to our door, we awoke at 5:30AM yesterday to the crashing of doors below. When we tried to leave our home, chairs blocked our door and in a haywired voice, we were met with demands to give her back the piano she had given us last year. In seemingly convenient timing, our hot water heater broke and we were all left in a tired and baffled state as we fumbled through the motion of getting ready for the day.

[Yes yes- the police were called and all parties questioned, but hello - fear for our lives?!]

These days we feel like we are living in a real-life game of Clue with an accompaniment of mystery music following us as we come and go. What is real and what isn't? What do we choose to ignore and what do we take seriously? While there are certainly other factors at work here - our recent obsession with Serial or playing too many games of Mafia or perhaps a delusional spell that winter has cast on all of us - lately we can't shake the visions of headlines announcing a case that has suddenly unfolded in the heart of Lakeview.

View from inside:
the evergreen outside our window, which gives
the appearance of living in a treehouse even in the middle of winter.

It leaves all three of us in a form of puzzlement, albeit slightly entertained through the daily texts of gif chains and emoji'ed updates. All options are being considered as we proceed in a pre-cautionary buddy system to our cars and respond in startling jumps at each creak and doorknob... but seriously - what the what?!