Bird Church

I have a habit.

A strange one to say in the least. I have never been one of those girls that you see snapping photos every two seconds when I am out with my friends and then looking at them to make sure they are cute enough to post on facebook.

If anything, I pose so the turnout is the opposite. Don't believe me? Well, then do not take photos with me. However, I have developed an affinity of taking a specific kind of photo.

Have you even been at a stop light only to look up and see a massive crowd of birds lined from end to end on a telephone wire?

If you say no then you don't live around the city, and I'm sorry--or jealous. I'm not sure. Anyway, I had a roommate in college who used to call this scene: Bird Church.

And the more that I witness this event, the more I am in amazement. I apologize that I did not partake in viewing the lunar eclipse last night, however, I did sit in awe this morning at the line of birds above my car.

And it makes you wonder, doesn't it? Stare at this congregation long enough and you realize you're either on that line... or you're in the sky.

Why my friend called this bird church, I am not really certain, but it seems fitting. Think about it. A large community of flyers sitting and waiting on something bigger to come. Sitting as a coffle.

Boomba.

-S

Give Me 3.

My 3 lessons from Thanksgiving this year:

1. Don't ever run the 8-Mile Turkey Trot
2. Too many cans of chicken broth added to the dressing will turn it into soup
3. My dad is one of the funniest people you will ever meet

Hope your Thanksgiving was full of fun, endless amounts of food, and the common family questions about your career and love life.

And if you're anything like my father, you ate too much, and debated on unbuttoning your shirt in front of all of the family because you were so full.

It's a good day to be outside.

-S

Color.Me.IF.

I would say that the color purple looks good on almost anyone.

Pale? Wear purple, it will add a softness to your powdery complexion taking away from the notion that you could be a Cullen.

Tan? Oh gosh, you might as well make people around you drop down. Because with your olive tones, most people are wearing green when they see you. (and by green-that is a tactful way of coloring them jealous.)

And if you're a TCU Horned Frog...well we all know that goes without saying. But you look great.

Most people can wear purple well.

Although I am always the fan of purple, I wear a different one more by choice. I prefer a cardigan always, with a festive scarf usually accompanied with various tones and shades of the color IF.

That is what I would say I wear frequently.

"If I make it through the next 24 hours then I will be less stressed."

"If I can just go shopping this weekend then I will not feel so frumpy in the clothes I have now."

"If I just take more time to spend with my parents then I will feel like a better daughter."

"If I I just do this better then I will not feel like such a failure."

 "If I just look this way. If I just say this. If I just do that. If I just...Then"

Hold your breath...

If...Then. I let my life become one of the steps of the Scientific Method of a completed portion of the "If...then" process.

But it happens to us all, if we let our hearts admit it. So here is my confession: I'm working on it.

And by that I mean, daily...I am trying to make myself embrace moments rather than wish to be a different way all the time. The only way to change things is to change things. And it does not all come at once.

So for now, I think I will put on some purple with a gold scarf. It will be a good day. No "If...Thens" about it.

Life is good in Crazytown, USA.

-S

Tunnel Vision

Life is a series of events. Life is fun times with your friends. Life is a watermelon in the summer. Life is tears of joy. Life is a room full of laughter. Life is a photo album full of sweet memories. Life is a painful tragedy with a happy ending. Life is a rough time. Life is good. Life is bad. Life is...

Life is a sentence that we chalk up to a refrigerator magnet. How often do you see magnets that say, "Life is a tunnel?"

Pack your bags and come to Crazytown with me.

I mean it. Let's go.

At least for me right now, life is a tunnel. I am driving through a very long one. Waiting for that light at the end.

But the more I am in this tunnel, why wait for the end of it? Embrace the tattered and cracked walls of what I'm waiting in traffic under. I'm stopped. So I get out of the car.

I smell the stories of those around me and I exhale the ridiculousness of my own.

I view the tunnel for what it is. Not what is after it.

The tunnel is many things: old in time, but new to my searching eyes. It is cold, yet making my veins come alive. It is silent yet screaming to me.

So what do I do?

Simple: Graffiti. Give the tunnel a story.

No need for a light at the end of this tunnel. A party has been started inside.

-S

Quiet Places

I apologize. It has been some time since I last blogged, and I do not like the feeling.

Strange? Yes.

If you know me well, you know that I love deep conversations, quality time, and that when I was a Junior in college, I took an English class entitled, "Emerson and Thoreau" that truly changed my life.

Just ask my roommate of that time, Kelsey. She saw the way I wrote down Thoreau quotes all over. And I have also decided that when I am older...I want two dogs. One will be Henry and the other Ralph. Or even better...call one Thor and the other Waldo. So that way, when I can't find him I will find myself laughing as I'm saying, "Where's Waldo?"  What? Don't like it? Fine, go a buy a goldfish...that's cool. (OK fish really are cool).

Anyway, I began to retreat a lot to places around Fort Worth. To parks. To secluded benches on trails. In between interesting trees. And I sat. I wrote. But I mostly sat for long periods of time.

I have this poster on my wall---(in high school I went through a poster purchasing stage, more like a sweet little era, where I would spend all my money on new and beautiful, rich and meaningful...or so I thought, posters...not counting the one with the chubby little boy reaching for the cookie jar or the one of Koko and Smoky---so sue me? I found them endearing and precious). So, back to the poster.

It is entitled "Quiet Places." Next to that, in small italicized letters it says, "the quieter you become, the more you can hear."

Boom. That's good stuff right there. So true. Don't believe me? Go sit outside somewhere. Set your phone down...the people texting or emailing you on the other end can wait. Go outside. Just get up and move into a quiet place. Let your soul rest in what God has created.

Get away from the business. For a moment. You don't have time? There is too much to do?

Jesus says, "Come to me..." Matthew 11:28. "..all who are weary and burdened..." sit and marvel... or wrestle with confusion and anger... or cry... or laugh and rejoice.."and [he] will give you rest."

"The quieter you become the more you can hear."

Life does not slow down. People do not slow down. Look around. Everyone has somewhere to be, a plane to catch, a game to watch, a conference call to make, an email to send...what about a breath to take?

I say all this mostly as I feel that I should have mirror dancing beneath my aging fingertips. My life right now is in a weird spot. An interesting spot. I find myself constantly watching the hearts of people around me, and it makes me tired. I am making myself tired. Not just physically, but my soul is tired.

As I was reading my bible, I found myself just reading all over. I am scattered to understand more. I'm thirsty to know my Jesus more. I was reading Matthew 11. And in verse 28, he says "come to me". I have been moving around so much but to where have I been going?

If you just look around everyone is always moving...and in some way or another, admit it or not, we are all weary...
When do we rest?

"The quieter you become, the more you can hear."

I do not know much. But I feel that the older we get, we either let our hearts get harder to life around us, or we allow them to be softened from the pain, sweeter from the joys, and open to the rest that only One can truly provide.

Farewell for now. And in the words of Henry David Thoreau, "love is the profoundest of secrets."

-S

Humility's Shoes

The older I am getting, the more I find myself developing an affinity for shoes. Shoes of all kinds. I love them. In fact, I will shamefully admit that I purchased a new pair today. (Sorry it is fall, boot season is here). But that is just another example to display my depressing humanity in comparison to my friend Humility.
Humility wears light shoes. She never asks for new ones, never desires a shiny new label to match her brand new outfit. She is simple. Humility has holes in her shoes. She gets dirt between her toes and sings praises that her feet are still covered. That she still has soles beneath her thankful and giving feet.

She sweeps her porch daily and takes her shoes off when she steps on holy ground. She understands that the tasks or mistakes of yesterday hold no victory of who she is today. She dances to a rhythm that is only sung by heaven's choir. She speaks kindly of all she meets and digs her finger nails into the depths of despair and prays for hope in the midst of brokenness.

And at the end of the day, Humility takes off her shoes. Thanks her God for the day and rests her head on a small piece of the earth.
----

Last week I was blessed with an opportunity to volunteer with an organization that reaches out to those that are homeless in Dallas. I would like to share with you some of that day and what I saw, what I felt, what I smelled, what I breathed---but most of all, I would like to share with you about how we are the same. So please, if you are willing read along.

I rode in the van with some of the team I was with. Also in the van were 4 other people that were homeless. After that van ride I stepped out into the streets with a heavy, burdened and convicted heart. Cynthia was a single mother with a daughter trying to finish college. She was homeless. She used to have her own company. Things fell through, she was evicted, she lost her house. There was something she said rested on my young mind.

"Most people will not even give you a chance. They will not look at you as a person. They will not consider that you are a person who had unfortunate circumstances, they look at you as stupid and irresponsible and think it was all your fault." She spoke with such an honest and tender demeanor.

As I walked onto the streets of South Dallas, I felt the Lord reminding me of how we are all the same. I am never too far away from losing my home. No one is. No matter how much money you have at one point, nothing is ever finite. Laugh at me now, scoff even---but as Don, another homeless man said, "the Lord is OK with people having His stuff, but He is not OK with stuff having a hold on his people."

Towards the later part of the morning, I walked back into a cluster of trees behind some houses. There were dirty pots and pans everywhere. The smell of sweat and things rotting. The smell of filth. Trash everywhere. My feet were sweating in my socks and I could feel a pool of sweat beads dropping down the small of my back. And I felt gross, that I needed a shower. Of course I would think that. I get excited when I go shopping. I think about all these new things that are on my horizon. It is never my thought in the day of where I am going to sleep at night. Shelter is not something I am concerned with. And then I met Renee.

She sat on an ice chest in the back of the woods behind some houses with a couple of other people. She had deep and large beautiful brown kind eyes. She wore a yellow bandanna to keep the hair off her face. I shook her hand and introduced myself. She lit up a cigarette and we talked about her life. She is a good woman with a heart full of gratitude. In the midst of everything, even though she and her husband lost their home she said to me, "but the Lord is good. We are blessed. And He provides." She looked at me with a humble heart and thanked me for being there. I could not help but let my heart be overwhelmed with the sincerity that this woman spoke with. That in the midst of my life, would I still be thankful if I were in her circumstance?

She told me I was brave for being there. But I told her I was not scared. She laughed at me and told me she would be terrified if she were in my shoes. We laughed and then I had to leave. But before I did, I shook hands with the lady sitting to her left. She went  by the name "Little Red." I shook Little Red's right hand. Her left hand was shooting heroine into the crease of her thigh. At that moment, the only thing I could breathe in was the smell of reality. This was it. Little Red smiled and laughed and asked us to pray for her and that one day she would leave her addictions and turn to Jesus. But not yet. I walked away that day fighting the truth that I had a place to go home to and the others I had met that day didn't.

At the foot of the cross we are all the same. We are all the same. At the foot of the cross we are all the same. Until the sun goes down each day, until I rest my head at night, I know…that we are all the same.

Some people might disagree with me, but we are never too far away. We are all held down by different addictions that lead to different outcomes in our lives. But we can only find shelter and refuge in One.

"The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe." Proverbs 18:10

The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe.

The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe.

...the righteous run to it and are safe.

I walked away that day trying to fit into Humility's shoes. It was not easy. Cynthia wore Humility's shoes. Renee wears Humility's shoes. But me?

We are all a work in progress, but good thing my human heart can yearn for a hope that is eternal.

At the foot of the cross we are all the same. We are all people in need of shelter.

Have you ever worn Humility's shoes?

-S

Up in the Air

People who know me well know that there are a few things that I am extremely uncomfortable with:
-condensation rings
-hair in the shower drain
-the usage of the word "y'all,"even though, I know I'm from Texas
-and the worst of all...airports and flying

I recently was able to go on a company trip for a conference. To be deficient in details, it was successful, other than me being very nervous and sweaty palmed the whole time, it went well. And other than the part where I tripped over my feet while walking to introduce myself to two of our biggest clients, things were good. That's life...live it up and laugh it up, because if you can't...well, put in some Kenny G, take a bubble bath and hope it will get better.

To me, airports are one of the most interesting places. Why? Because all walks of life. And then when you sit back and think about where you are...you're in the middle of the journey of the human heart. You are at a common location with everyone else and you all have one goal in common: a destination.

As I sat waiting to board my plane, my eyes began to water (I'm melodramatic, this I know). But my tears were not the result of a sadness but more of a realization: life is not fun travelling alone.

Once I had boarded the plane I was positioned in a window seat, which I actually prefer. However, I could not seem to focus or catch my breath (maybe it was anxiety of the trip ahead of me or the two women to my left who smelled of french fries and were coughing very heavily). I closed my eyes and asked God for grace in that moment of judging everyone around me. I took deep and silent breaths, wiped the pitiful tears from my eyes and looked out the window. As I felt my heart soften and my fears reside, I smiled at the beauty of my God.

As I looked to my right out my window, a precious sight captivated my naive eyes. I was reminded of how small I am in this world. How things do look different from the view above. One thing that always happens when I fly...after of course, the nausea, sweating and extensive prayer...I look out into an infinite sky and:

Sheer memorisation of my God.

I sat silently by my window. I smiled as my eyes once again formed their own little swimming pools and I was filled with more belief. The sky was blanketed with, I do not even believe I can call them clouds. May sound trite but they looked like the pillows where the angels rest their heads. I felt like a 7 year old wanting to name every different shape and object that my eyes captured. At one point I know that I saw Mario and Luigi.

But as I looked upon it all...insignificance rained upon my heart. I became:

Thankful.

So overall, the trip was good (not the one where I was publicly humiliated, but the actual outcome of the D.C. adventure was a business success). And of course there was one more thing.

I never had good luck in airports. That part I forgot to mention. Travelling there, everything seemed fine. On my way back in the Dulles airport---I was pulled aside after they said, "Excuse me, Ma'am, is this your red purse?" "Excuse me, Ma'am is this your pink backpack?" (What? I'm a colorful traveller, sorry.) After searching through my bags, two pocket knives later, they let me go...(so sue me, I forgot I had them.) I blame it on my father, a man who always believes you need to have a pocket knife with you. But after the loss of my weapons, I travelled a little lighter. But I made it home safely.

With that said: wear solid and sturdy shoes, always ask for a window seat and do not try and attempt to carry on pocket knives.

Build the castles.
-S

The 20s--The Years of Ant Watching

I am almost 24. Life moves faster than I feel like we breathe. There are days when I wake up and sometimes feel like I need to double-check myself in the mirror to make sure I did not grow 10 years older without realizing it.

In high school, those were those tender and dramatic years where adults told us to embrace those times because they are precious and we will never get them back. And that I agree with. That is true. However, I am now beginning to feel that way about this decade of my life. The "Roaring Twenties" I guess you could say.

For some, I think the reason that this age in life is difficult for different reasons. But the common reasons found are listed below in questions we are asked:
  If you have graduated college and you are dating someone, when are you getting engaged? Married?
  What do you want to do now? Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
  You're single? So do you want to date anyone? (people ask funny questions)
  Do you like your job?
  Do you have a job? Where have you applied?

Breathe in, no pressure.

But I think with every new decade of our lives, they could be gift wrapped with another load of questions. I am sure the 30s will be more questions about investments and finance, children, soccer games, jobs, book clubs (this is a guess...OK, I take it back. I don't think I will ever be in a book club. But for some, this holds merit). But who knows? I let you know about this decade when I get there. But for now, I rest on the threshold of the 24th year of my wonderful life.

The more conversations I have with my friends about our lives, the more I am moved to a peace about uncertainty. A peace in knowing that I am exactly where I need to be for now, even though I have no idea as to why. My purpose will always be the same:

Live with joy in knowing that He has placed me to love those around me, despite my location or job.
Live with joy in knowing that life is too short this side of heaven to experience the pain and worry of not knowing.
Live with joy in knowing that each day is new. Each day is different. Each breath is another chance for something more in this life.
Live with joy in knowing that even though I do not know much, I can love much.

To sum it all up, I think one of my old campers once put it all into perspective. I worked at a summer camp for 5 summers. My first summer, I was a counselor for 10-11 year old girls. One day it was miserably hot and it was the 7th week of the summer. I was sitting on the deck of the cabin waiting for all of the girls to go to our next activity. I sat down on the bench, exhausted and tired of not knowing what was going on with my life. I put my face in hands and stared at the ground of the wooden deck. There was a line of ants that drew my attention and I honed in on their journey. As I was intently watching this, Morgan, one of the funniest campers I have ever met, sat down next to me. She put her arm around me and then said, "Hey, Steph. It's OK.You know what? Sometimes I like to look at the ants too." She then directed her eyes to the line of ants and sat there with me and we watched the ants.

So hey, life is good. Even if you don't know what is next, it's OK to watch the ants.

-S

Such is Life

I have never been a blogger.

But I have always been a dreamer.
A storyteller.
A journal lover.
A sojourner of papered lines.

So this is peculiar to me. Different. Yet, something I desire to try. I guess, this contains all of those elements I listed above. It is just represented in a different format, a different background---saved technologically, reflected from a screen. How life has changed.

This is intimidating to me. I love paper. I am drawn to open pages where my heart talks to my hand and they create life onto an empty and lonely page. I guess why it is difficult for me is because I like to see how my handwriting changes, depending on my mood, my state of mind and the pen I am using.

But I also desire newness.

So welcome to these pages of newness. Of incoherent thoughts. Streams of consciousness. Ridiculous escapades. And stories from Crazytown (there are plenty of these).

You have entered a safe place. A place to be a new stepping ground.

And so my friends, please join me. Take off your shoes and stay a while.

-S