Poem for A Sunday

Noisy wind in silence passes;
crashing waves tell a story of peace.
Push and pull of sun and clouds;
the feeling of blissful immortality in moments held still.
Sandy toes in-between kisses;
the tiny blonde hairs of his ears
you only see up-close.
Lashes to the sky, elongating light;
restful hearts in present happiness.
Time in fullness encapsulated by
you and me and the sea.
Here is where I want to be.

//Cardiff Beach, July 30, 2017

Written from the shores of the Pacific, an ode to the nostalgia of family vacays the first week of August. Though it can't be re-lived or re-created, I remember that time is just as beautiful as it moves forward into new seasons. The feeling of "togetherness" that comes with sunsets and the lake lives on through my family with Benjamin, mine forever.

Here, Right Now.

While it’s true that I readily embrace change, there often comes a moment amidst the transition where I have a sense of reflection and even a bit of fear. Since driving across the country in summer 2015 with my belongings in my trunk, life has been a series of changes that I never could’ve foreseen. I have gone from single, 20’s, studio-life to married, 30’s, house-life in a matter of one year. Amidst that, I had a job transition to a different industry, finished my thesis, and started adjunct teaching as a professor in our degree completion programs.

As my birthday approaches and a new year lies on the horizon, I think about the flurry of the past two years. Life has happened in 6-month chunks and I am finally approaching a resting spot. Moving, Dating, Engagement, Thesis + Adjunct Teaching… 6 months at a time; the most glorious moments, the most daunting, and ones that took the most courage. I have grown-up in places where I deeply needed challenge; I have self-reflected in places that I had formerly been afraid of; I have replaced old roles with new ones and found myself building new habits to form a more profound faith and identity.

Now that I am in a season of closure and developing a sense of rest, I automatically jump to the next thought – what is next? I have researched PhD programs, considered babies, and viewed Open Houses. But in all those things, I have unrest, as if not the right timing and just not right now. I don’t experience a lack of confidence or uneasiness, I mostly experience God telling me patience, wait, be. But why?! What am I waiting for? Why can’t I jump into the adventure and wear the victory of defeating the next challenge?

To these questions, I don’t know the answers. I am not sure what the waiting is for and sometimes it frustrates me because I am a do-er. I like to be busy and I like to be a high-achiever. Perhaps it is a call to be present, or a call to trust that which is unseen right now. I know that I can trust God and that obedience to what He calls is the most fulfilling and lifegiving place to be. So that’s where I am – waiting and trusting and knowing that in His timing everything is right.

A Poem

God's Grandeur Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1918.
THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;	5
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;	10
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

"Being in a hurry. Getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me. I cannot think of a single advantage I've ever gained from being in a hurry. But a thousand broke and missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all the rushing... Through all that haste I thought I was making up time. It turns out I was throwing it away."

// Ann Voskamp
One Thousand Gifts

Memorable Moments

You know those friends who consistently gather people together, hosting celebrations for holidays that don’t exist or to celebrate what others might view as a minimal accomplishment in another’s life? My brother is one of those people. Over the past decade of living in both Chicago and San Diego together, it appears his place remains the hub for both planned and unplanned socializing in any form. And it makes me so grateful to be a part of such moments, because there is a spirit of mystery in the air, as if anything could happen.

In summer 2012, after a standard Daniel’s House hang, the remains of our crew collectively decided that a walk to the lake was in store for our evening. Walking back, the iconic Abraham Lincoln statue hovered under the glow of the Lincoln Park lamps, as if beckoning us to come and sit. In my obviously small-minded ways, I was poised ready to take photos in front of the statue, at the exact moment that Daniel took off in an all-out sprint towards ol’ Abe, ready to take a climb atop his shoulders. One-by-one we followed up the 12-foot statue, involving feet on shoulders and hands on marble, ready to pose for pictures that would soon become hints of memories of this golden free-spirited night.

The thing that rises to the forefront of my mind is a line hinging in the air by Daniel as we climbed: “Life is about memorable scenes. We have to make this a memorable scene!”  We easily could’ve stepped in front of Lincoln with Asian-tourist peace signs and smiles in front of the lawn… but instead we climbed on top of each other to reach his lap, sit at his feet, and bronze his nose. (For the record, I’m pretty sure Daniel stole this line from Donald Miller, but it seems it could also be his life motto.)

I frequently think about this night as a reminder to take the ordinary and turn it into something memorable. Somewhere along the way, it seems that the effort poured into these moments is less frequent; it is substituted for excuses like “it’s too much work” or “I just don’t have the energy.” It takes a spirit of adventure to create these moments… to push through the exhaustion or lack of excitement… and make it happen.

We create these moments by turning dinner into an event – a candlelit porch or a sunset seaside picnic; by choosing to bike to work down a dirt trail instead of taking the regular drive; through choosing a new activity for a Sunday afternoon instead of taking a nap. Memory is triggered by emotion; meaning that the moments that stay within us are the ones attached to high emotion. 

When life is lived with passion; memorable scenes are created.

Here are a few of my latest faves:

Biking to church

New table and chairs on our porch

Strolling Liberty Station at sunset

Homemade pizza

Cookies for breakfast