gather ye tastebuds...

Within the next few months the communities around me will celebrate mules(mule days), pigs(swine time), and snakes (rattlesnake roundup). This seems to be the way we usher in the holidays.
And by celebrate I mean sell crafts, guns and funnel cakes. Ever the sportsmen, we in the deep south, honor and celebrate in ways I'm still discovering.
I write about this as if it is foreign to me, though I grew up in this nature -based region, but frankly it is a re-introduction to me. My family only attended a few of these festivals as I grew up, I suppose on most Saturdays we were at swim meets or reading, an introverted family's weekend.
I caught a glimpse of this type of gathering at our county fair this past week. Again something I never attended before. It was purely southern; from the nods, the denim, the ball caps and the ever present T-shirts. If I didn't know someone they wanted to know my family, to place me within reach. People strolled around together; family clans, neighborhood circles, church groups.
Lots of God Bless' and see y'all soon. Hard-earned dollars buying cotton candy and ring of fire rides.
Sometimes I forget what a grounding a small town is; yes, its an inability to see beyond but its also a solid sense of connection, a genuine community.
I can appreciate the oddities, see the charm a bit more now. I think in areas like this, where poverty covers half the population, celebrations have to be created, to be beacons of joy, guideposts through the year. I assume most families here have never taken their kids to Disneyworld, or even Six Flags, but I bet they go to the fair ever year. I bet they first got cane syrup and fried Twinkies at Swine Time. I bet they pass those memories down through the generations. They value animals, feel comfortable with anything wild.
While we will always have our rednecks and racists, we will also have our friendliness and our need to gather. We will celebrate random days because our grandparents did. We will get through the year, with cakes along the way.
And yes, I started out with I and grew into we.
I'm still discovering.

october

A note neatly folded on the edge of my bed.
Instinctively, I know its not good news.

The boy that taught me to read, writes me. He writes of pain, of fear and then of his lack of need. His handwriting not able to hide the lie. It juts and leans heavier on 'by myself.'  I can hear him reading this, feeling this.
Heat starts in my chest, up my throat, burns the back of my head.
Outside I find him, there is a slight breeze, the tinted sun is setting behind the pines and he stares at the ground, watching something navigate its way home. I stare at him, willing the same.

Just as plants and insects have different abilities to survive I believe there are certain souls that are more sensitive to seasons, winds and storms. They bruise easily, saturate quickly and get bogged down when caught in difficult weather. They are no less strong than others, they are simply made from a different fiber; lighter, less repellant.

I want to guard him, cover him and dare I say save him but he doesn't need any of those things. He needs a different kind of weather.

another emotion

Update:

• Calories are winning. I am considering botox, not for calories but for the angry brow.
• Fall is just a rainy summer here so far.
• Of my 5 ideas, 1 is sticking. Have a facility to house the social enterprise I am starting!
• I have gone through at least 50 names for said enterprise and none work.
• My hair is rebellious; fighting consistency everyday. (There should be a hair care line called discipline.)
• A dear friend is getting married and asked me to be a part of the celebration. I won't say what number this is for me to walk down the aisle before the bride, but I am possibly more excited than any one before. (Calories and botox relevant here)
• I am semi-employed again. I work with women who challenge me. They are hopeless, fearful and broken. Everyday I am taught grace and mercy.
• My dreams are changing, moving towards landmarks I did not imagine.
• Sometimes, a lot of the time, I think this city is one that has taken a collective sigh and just given up.  It is strange to feel that of a city, but it hangs in the air like humidity. It needs a marketing plan.
• I found my shop space; the place I have always wanted to have, upstairs apartment shop downstairs. Brick, cute, charming and ready. My account is not however. I have no reason to believe it will be successful or even break even but I want it still.
• My legs are itchy and marked by the ants, mosquitos and other hungry southern species.
• I have realized I am here to support my family through some things. I was not prepared, then again would I have come if I knew?
• Certain memories still prick me. I am growing bothered pissed with the "why are you still single" talk. I have yet to run into the ex it will matter most to see.
• My throat is sore from swallowing my pride.
• BUT there are some great ice cream locations for that.:)....and calories win again!

ode to O

My feet tighten as I walk barefoot down the porch steps. These old, cracked bricks hold heat like asphalt; surprises me every time. As I carry her, steady and close, I try not to walk too quickly. I set her down in the grass, watch as her senses adjust. Scents first then she turns with a breeze; birds sing, nearby a truck rumbles.
Another surprise, I love these times.

I grew up in a home with a pet, usually a dog...we had so many that I can't always remember their names. I cared for my pets, loved the companionship but never was too sentimental. I played with them on occasion, rubbed them but did not get attached.  I realized early on they did not last forever. My family, in particular my father, considered them blood. He would grow so attached, be with them all the time, even when it came time to bury them.
Oreo, a loyal mix of chow and border collie, was 6 months old when my father found her at the local pound. She was sitting in her pen watching the other dogs yip for attention. She kept eye contact with him the whole time." A wise dog." He knew within minutes she had chosen him. Since my parents were empty nesters she became incredibly important. Their fridge full of pictures of the new, energetic, loveable pup.

6 months later, suddenly, my father passed away while in the yard with Oreo. His last witness.
I believe she kept eye contact with him the whole time.

In the 13 years since Oreo has been a vital family member. A witness to our lives.  I can't always say its been healthy but its been a necessary relationship for my family to grieve, get up and continue. She has given my mother a sense of safety and security. She snores in her sleep, an ironic memory of my father. She rubs beside us if we yell or cry. She paces at night until we are all asleep. She stares at us sometimes and I think she is saying why she chose us.
Now, she is so ill and has been for quite some time. She can't walk, nor see well and doesn't eat much unless hand fed. She wrestles with tremendous pain per the vet. She has wounds and scars but she will not give up.
We can't seem to let her either.

So now I am a girl that loves to carry my 50 pound dog wherever she needs to go. I lay on the floor with her so she won't feel lonely. I feed her and roll her over when she doesn't have the strength to.  I am sentimental about almost everything.
Yes, life doesn't last forever and in the meantime I try not to walk too quickly.

(wo)men at work

For someone without a regular 9-5 job, the Friday before a holiday weekend looses a bit of its luster. That extra day off used to be something I eagerly anticipated and celebrated.
"Well-earned" we would say together as we met for a drink on a patio.

I think that may be what I miss the most about 9-5, the feeling of earning my keep.
Research says, intrinsically, we want to earn rewards. Even those people who disagree with reinforcement techniques, will often say they deserve the same perks as their peers simply because they haven't done anything wrong. Which itself is indicative of good behavior(hard work) = perks.

Its rather interesting the change in what earn means through the years. My grandpa was of the generation of WORK. Didn't matter if you liked it, were good at it or felt fulfilled- you did what needed to be done and were thankful to "earn your spot". He was strong and very aware of his strengths and weaknesses. He said there was never a thing that couldn't be healed/fixed/answered after a hard days work.  I never once saw him wonder his place in the world.

Now many of us are pursuing our own passions and dreams and we don't stay at jobs that we loose interest in. We seek more...of everything.  I don't believe that's wrong at all, I'm example number one.  I do think that perhaps the internal value of earning, that knowing that you are contributing in a valuable way seemed stronger in he and his peers. I could list a chapter of people I've met that wonder daily what they are contributing in life. People that perhaps feel they haven't earned a spot.

I will never think life is about work, the job. I know that there are endless opportunities to grow, learn and contribute outside of the job. But perhaps work, the action, is what many of us are missing in life. The act of giving it all you have is very different from being at work 12 hours a day.
I honestly can't say the last day I gave it all.

This weekend I hope we celebrate all our options, encourage ourselves to get through hard jobs and are generous in our moments of freedom and days off with those we love.
(And be thankful we aren't working with my grandpa because he would have worn us out!)


*Labor Day is more than the end of Summer, most importantly its a celebration of the achievements of American workers.

something small

I said yes.
It was a simple choice really. I decided anytime someone asked me to do something and my gut reaction was no- I would say yes. (This excludes any illegal/inappropriate behavior, naturally)
Since I hadn't be able to find my own open doors perhaps all the avoided opportunities were the right ones?

A lady that is close to me suggested I do this favor; a road trip to Virginia to deposit a visiting missionary's car and then meeting with the organizations staff. My gut said no because I am not the missionary type and driving is my third least favorite thing(1.sweating 2.using public restrooms).
But I readily said yes, and even got myself a little excited; should be a beautiful drive, never been to Virginia. As I was making preparation something seemed off, can't pinpoint it but this lady seemed guarded, indecisive and (gulp) long-winded.
But still I was committed, I thought God will use this opportunity in unknown ways, I will trust that. And I had plenty of  time, what could it hurt.

5 days, 1 meeting, 6 phone calls and 3 texts later and I'm not going.
But it wasn't me-it was her that backed out!
I kept saying yes every time I wanted to say no, gracefully and respectfully. She was kind to me and began being more transparent. Hesitancy is often insecurity. Ultimately it had to do with finances as my flight was quite expensive but I do wonder....
if He is just tenderly watching something small grow.

chop.season.roast

I need to follow the recipe.
This is what I think to myself as I make our family dinner. But I add more paprika, garlic, coriander and a little honey. I squeeze lime juice all over the steak. I am using taste I like, assuming they will work. I cook it longer that it says, it doesn't look right yet.

Logically you would think I would learn that recipes work for a reason. But something in me- when faced with seemingly endless options(spices, herbs, marinades/ grill, bake, fry)-wants to try them all.

 

How can I decide that is indeed the best combination?

Its the narrowing down that overwhelms me. As soon as I really allow myself to dream big an avalanche of possible pursuits roll into every thought. I keep a notebook of possible business ideas. I currently have 3 pages, endless options(blog+online business, overseas work, retail store, nonprofit management, event planning) When I list fears I can't seem to get past the biggest- which way, which one?
My mind sees opportunities in low income neighborhoods, in retail developments, in overseas ministries....and I don't have the means (or skills frankly) to just #start on my own.
I pray God will open a door or put an arrow in my focus but I have been praying that for some time - perhaps there is a recipe already written that I'm just not following?

less is more

One must return to the beginning to truly understand the story.

I'll admit I lost interest in blogging. It seems like everyone in the world became a blogger.
 And actually thought people would want to spend 5-10 min reading about them. It just seemed so...selfish. I couldn't imagine I'd have that much to say or the world  needed one more voice giving their opinion. No offense if any blogger ever reads this...I'm sure your perspective is valid. Props.
Its kinda my tattoo theory- what do I need to say that will be forever?

At this point, I'm here working through a program I started to challenge me to do things that make me uncomfortable. To pursue what is in my heart and head. {And some people graciously want to support my wanderings...}

less talking more action card
made by me

For the record some life changes have occurred:
1-quit job, applied to overseas positions
2-sold my stuff
3-drove a uhaul! back home to  rural GA
4-didn't get any overseas positions/fellowships
5-temporary home in GA has now been several months..ANXIOUS
6-unexpectedly started volunteering at women's homeless shelter
7-asked to create logo/branding for shelter and partner ministry
8-have enjoyed much needed quality time with family
9-wanting to have own business? or at very least develop products overseas and have made some very small steps- check prettywittybright.com

naturally

On talk radio the other week I heard a musician talk about why he liked certain instruments. He said the ukulele was an interesting one because it was impossible to make sad, it just had a joy to it naturally. It was such a great thought that I, someone that does not listen to or care for music, decided to learn to play the uke(as she will now be referred to).

Yes, I bought the kit, because I am tone deaf so this will be a challenge. But as one who struggles with a seriousness, and a bit of sadness lately I figured it was time to be open to ideas I do not like and let some irreverent fun & lightness in. (Its so not my nature!) Here's hoping.

for you

I have been here before, one of my few entries here was lent a few years ago. It is oh so very interesting to read that now because frankly I'm not as changed as I would like to be..still struggling with the same ghost I suppose. Curious how many people spend these 40 days giving up something. Also curious about what you think it means. I had a discussion the other night with a friend about this. It was Fat Tuesday so we willingly went to our local Mexican place to get fat! (Well worth it btw) She explained how she believed it was a time to give up something that got in our way of hearing/seeing God, an idol if you will. For me, reality TV. I guess I had always thought of it as something we give up as a sacrifice, to show our faithfulness. Like I love you this much I'll give up my favorite food. I am certainly over thinking this but I rather like that 40, starts with For(in my head).

As in, this my Father is For you.

I'm am not schooled in this, I do not know if there is a 'right way' to think of it(who am I kidding of course people have rules in religion but sometimes..blah) but I do believe this is a great time to be DESPERATE for something/someone your life depends on. I am.

just because

Because I believe that love is more than a holiday.

Because I see love most in the smallest of gestures.

Because I am a follower of an impossible love story.

I'll wait. 

Arm-erd

Change is annoying, sweetly defining and necessary. You see I can be incredibly hard headed and unyielding, so certain that I can keep going in the wrong direction to make a point. Even if I know I need some help rarely do I ask (Its weird, am I really just a guy driver?). 
Some changes have occurred lately in my life and possibly more to come, I've been resisting that wanting somehow to predict/control/lessen them. I mean who doesn't, right?
This past Sunday Sin was the topic of discussion. Exciting I know. The point that I came to focus on was this "shame is a lie that changes who we are."
There are many more statements that lead you from sin to shame(and I recommend you check them out at midtown fellowship) but that is what I heard, down deep.
My first thought, "Are you kidding? What am I ashamed of? I'm a good person. Not a saint, but good. That's not me." But pretty soon I had tears in my eyes. I had been listening to lies about myself - you aren't successful, you aren't at all worthy, you aren't lovable-and it had changed me and made me ashamed.  Stronger still was my fear to admit it.

Pastor Randy asked  us to come take communion and for those struggling to kneel and lay it all down(as NEEDTOBREATHE would say). If we needed help we could cross our arms across our chest and someone would just pray for us. I got up, got in line -still so hard headed- when I got to the front I knelt and put ONE arm across my chest. It was literally a fight in my head and heart and I guess it came out as a tie. Gratefully, it was Pastor Randy there in front of me and he asked, does this mean you want me to pray for you? I nodded and he said many wonderful things, but most importantly He said what I needed to hear in his first sentence-"Your father wants you to know.. 

You are not alone. You were created with meaning and you are a favorite child that I value with my life."

That was enough for me. Maybe you don't have to have the answer to feel better. Maybe I should ask for help more often. Maybe the ugly cry I had after that was just the beginning of more changes. What was beautiful was that even though I could only give one arm due to pride/shame/control, He still gave me what I needed to hear. I am still trying to give both arms...(which to top it off, means  I love you in sign language)

well-watered garden

So there are many times when I've second guessed myself; outfits I've worn that I seen pictures of and think what in the world....,words said that I rehash over and over, opportunities missed. I've come to realize that I'm still really trying to do the 'right' thing. Still looking for the pot at the end of the rainbow, walk that perfect line. Find the perfect person for me. Its such a shame and burden to think like that- its no wonder there isn't much satisfaction to be found. I want to be enough, all I'm meant to be.....will I get there despite myself?

I did not know I had these walls to break, still.

I'm thankful God always has a way of nudging me forward.

who I am

who I am by jgrace on Polyvore.com

Can I be happy in both? Does one make more since? Do I contradict myself?Very well then....

verily, verily

At times I can be a bit weighty in thought, overly analytical some say. But as more and more reports abound of war, unrest, destruction, hatred and vengeance....we as a society seem to carry on, unaffected or worse unaware. Simply, it seems everyone hates so many things/people/places. ..so much so we have forgotten there is something other than hatred to feel.

 My faith teaches me this seperation from goodness and kindness happens and everyone has a choice to live outside of hatred..but fewer and fewer are making that choice. There is an urgency humming in the world now that is different from what I've felt before. I think of the old Hymn sung at my parents wedding, Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place and pray for that with all my heart.

reaction time

Perhaps it is a self fulfilling prophecy. I recently injured myself.

I could go on but basically, its my toe and it hurts.

What hurts a little more is what the nurse practitioner said when I explained what happened,

"your reaction time must be delayed."

Um ok. We all know I'm a bit clumsy but to call me delayed in anything really chapped me. I have no idea why- its certainly possible- but the thoughts of all the stories/plans/ideas that I have on delay started popping in my head...and I wondered if the answer was simply, my reaction time is delayed.

Perhaps that will ease the pain a bit? Will God get a laugh out of that?

I asked her how exactly one could test their reaction time as I was at the very most determined to be mediocre.

Maybe my quick wit was lost on her. ;)

bent out of shape

bent out of shape by jgrace featuring art deco bracelets

Fake expectations

" I went to sleep and dreamed my whole life, now I'm just waiting for it to happen." me, age 10

Besides being a ominous sign of the next 20 years of my life, this is one of the sole sources of my condition of expectation.
Throughout my friendships, counseling books, bible studies and(the mecca of human behavior analysis)retail, I've yet to fully grasp why we expect so much or little as the case may be.
Why we like to write the night before it happens or predict disinterest before it shows up.
I know control hides out in the foundation of this but it certainly feels like more. Disappointment sucks.  Its the thing I try to avoid the most and why...its not what I dreamed? That's just crazy talk , right?

I tend to find myself feeling this little flicker of a feeling on more days than I care to note.
There are tangible moments ...and I don't even know why I'm disappointed/surprised/flattered....It really takes me time to think about it...and then convince myself to not think about again.

Is it ingrained, taught, fostered, created...or is it a defensive act to show preparation?
Is it stopping me?

Do we all have these fake expectations--or are we all simply  either a disappointment to some and a joy to others?

Truthfully- my expectations have been surpassed as many times as they have fallen...kind gestures in adverse situations, thoughtfulness from an absent mind, even success in a oppressive environment....but this is still an alteration on the advanced plan I had for this specific moment.

We create our expectations. We make people into characters, moments into meaning, words into feelings. If I'm disappointed its because I wrote the story differently from how God wrote it. (ahem and He is a best seller.) So I guess its time to edit. 

Rise and Shine

Sometimes, we have no idea.
The reasons behind ones comment, the strength of such an unassuming person, the capacity of such a thing as water. At face value these don't add up but what glimmers beyond the surface compels us to wake up and take notice.
I'm in a new place, figuratively and literally(though just temporarily). Often a champion naysayer I have recently opted for a brighter view. When this event(its more than a flood) happened I immediately wrote it off as a complete loss. Certain. Beautifully, friends and neighbors became arc's.  Strength, kindness, fear and peace was lying behind most every surface. Layers  I hadn't bothered to look at before. And I had no idea how miraculously lucky I would be.
There are a host of  educated people that tell you fear compels us to do most everything. I can't disagree entirely- but I can say I am compelled by greatness of others. To aspire to be like ones I have witnessed.
It is a grand thing when someone exceeds your expectations. Grander still to rise above yourself and surpass what you thought possible. Sometimes, we have no idea.

Nashville's history is steeped with battles, melodies, difficulties and dreamers.
As our water rose so did the since of duty, kindness and brotherly love. To see a town and communities within - just go and do what needed to be done- was so incredibly encouraging and necessary. Main stream media might not have cared, some people might feel indifferent about a country town but if you ask this girl, on this occasion, Nashville rises and shines.

The occasion is piled high with difficulty[and possibility] and we must rise high with the occasion. Abraham Lincoln

Spring of my content

Something about being home. Where memories infiltrate your senses at the local bakery, the river's edge, the front porch.

Being in a place where you made plans and dreamed of more. Where you decided who you want to be and how you want to live. 

An emotional split screen moment - me, as a  17 y/o girl and me as a 34 y/o woman.

(This is where I would insert a picture but the internet lives forever and I'm not going to do it;)

Some things are not that terribly different, some things are. I have a better car(green fiero- silver jetta), hairstyle(ok thats subjective) and sense of self now. My legs are not the dancers of before, and my skin shouldn't see any more sun. I was hopelessly romantic, now I'm hopelessly doubtful. I still say ma'am and sir. Though I've found faster paces I still believe in a nice stroll and conversation.

Its here where I see most clearly the life I chose not to have....and more than I care to admit, I question it.  I think about my family, my life and how different it would be if ......but I trust God works even when I have my blinders on.

One thing for sure, the love for my family grows exponentially. We went to the coast and walked on the shore, ate fresh seafood and enjoyed one another. I finally learned how to make mom's biscuits. I finished two books in the home where I've read hundreds. I found an old letter that broke my heart. I slept safe, without a care. I made efforts to see people that can speak to who I've always been.

Most importantly I've come round to find contentment in a town, for a time I wanted distance from.

Is it so small a thing to have enjoyed the sun, to have lived light in the spring, to have loved, to have thought, to have done?

Matthew Arnold