kitsch

2011-09-12T11:58:00.000-05:00

i bought a new camera! and i miss my family!

so specific.

2011-09-05T23:28:00.000-05:00

the first two acts of this episode made me laugh and cry. couldn't keep it to myself.

pacifiers.

2011-07-17T02:04:00.002-05:00

A month after moving back in with my parents, I drove down to Dallas to shoot a wedding. I've shot dozens of weddings before -most of them clients that have had no previous contact with me, but I usually worked with my former boss, an energetic Frenchman who has not only guided me as a visual artist and inadvertently educated me on Edith Piaf's discography, but also has become a good friend of sorts, welcoming me into his family, he and his wife generously supported me in my final push to graduate. Shooting those weddings I became accustomed to verbalizing what our goals were, praying before we began, dividing and conquering the reception (my least favorite part of weddings), and even venting a little and reviewing what our technical struggles were of the day. I miss that. And it was a feeling that was especially acute in Dallas. I had spent the whole weekend chatting with strangers usually about the bride and groom, how they're connected to them, or about my work. They're very draining and empty conversations that are a necessary part of my job, which I really do love, by the way. Besides working on my own, the recent changes in my life were keeping me on edge, to say the least. I had no idea what my next step was or what exactly I wanted or who would still be a part of my life, post grad. Post grad. The magical word that suddenly makes this whole scenario make sense.

I remember feeling so overwhelmed by loneliness at this wedding when I had a little down time to grab a bite to eat at the reception. I sat next to a glitzy woman in her late fifties, who began to talk with me, oddly enough asking about my personal life and telling me about her grandchildren. I latched onto this woman like a kid and a pacifier. She radiated encouragement and positivity, two characteristics that were completely void in my life. I confided to her I had no idea what direction I needed to head towards, now that I was out of college, an adult. She reached over and grabbed my arm, looked my right in the eyes and said in a thick southern accent, "You take it one day at a time. You should journal. One day it might be bleak and hopeless but you keep on. Two months from now who knows? Maybe you'll have little more opportunities and more confidence. Soon enough you can look back at all your journal entries and go "wow! It's been six months and look how far I've come." and you'll realize how much God has planned that you would never have imagined." I think about those words so much.

It's been seven months since I've graduated -a speed I've never experienced before. The past year as been nothing but curve balls, which has been both awful and satisfying -as most things in life are. I rock back in forth between embracing adulthood and struggling to let my adolescence go, between enjoying my simple, quiet life and despising the lonely and settled aspects of it. And that woman is absolutely right: I would have never imagined the things the Lord has placed in my life thus far. Since driving back from that Dallas wedding seven months ago, I moved to a tiny little town with no job (I can't believe I did that. My parents are incredible people to wholeheartedly support me in my madness), lived with five strangers, made five new friends, worked at a restaurant, got a full time job with a camera company out of the blue, moved again, got a house with my cousin, booked half a dozen weddings and traveled quite a bit over the summer, and have tried to plant some roots into a new church close by. It's a simple life, not the glamorous life I conjured up in my noggin all through high school and college. There are things about my life I truly regret. There are people I've let go that I miss terribly. I'm genuinely happy working and learning at my job -having the opportunity to teach and network with all kinds of professionals. I miss my family more than I thought was possible. I'm a little blind-sided by the weight of personal responsibilities. I adore having my own bedroom, a luxury I've never had before. I like how personal my relationship with the Lord is now, even though it's quite imperfect.

Sometimes I get home from work and kind of chuckle at how boring my life kind of is and how much I still like it anyways. Sometimes I get home and hate the emptiness of my house and the lackluster responsibilities that must be done in it. Sometimes a friend calls and tells me they've been offered a job that pays five times as much as mine does. Sometimes I have to encourage others as they're struggling to fit back into their families after being away for four years. Most of the time I want to bang my head against heaven's door and wail, "What the hell does it mean to be twentysomething!?" because I'm baffled. But there are three truths I've clung to this year. And if there's one thing I've learned in the last decade it's that it's not what you don't know, but what you do know and refuse to do. So here's what I know and what I'm trying to do about it:

1. My life is a gift. Each day I wake up, the Lord hands me this day, in which good things exist that I need to take the time to unwrap and thank Him for. The gift of having bills to pay and the ability to pay it off is a genuine gift from the Lord. Being single is a gift handed to me each day that allows me to move about my life freely and invest in people I would struggle to make time for otherwise. Even being lonely is a gift that helps me understand quality always trumps quantity and allows me to have time to grow in my relationship with Christ one-on-one, which has been surprisingly awkward yet rewarding this year. And then there are the obvious good gifts that I just need to be diligent to thank Him for, that often go under my radar as things I expect in my life that really are gifts, not understoods.

2. Pslam 16:8 "I have set the Lord always before me. Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken." And Pslam 119:9-11 "How can a young man keep his paths straight? By keeping it according to Your word. With my whole heart I seek you, let me now wander from your commandments. Your word I have hidden in my heart, that I might not sin against You." These verses are my mantra these days and they are truths I want to speak into my life on a daily basis.

3. The song "Sigh No More" by Mumford and Sons. It hurts to listen to sometimes because of its truthfulness in my life. The growing pains are at times excruciating and there is nothing that comforts me more than to realize that "Love will not betray, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free, be more like the man you were made to be." Listen to it! Now!

At the end of the day, my life is still a mess (surprise!) but I’m living with the small ounce of faith that God is picking up the clutter and arranging it for His glory. So here I sit, slouched on my bed, a little nervous that I’ve exposed such an unsure place in my brain for the whole web to peruse through. But it’s okay because I think that deep down everyone is still growing into the person they were made to be too, even if their life looks totally different than mine and their changes may not be as drastic as mine appear to be. (Plus, almost everyone I know is a mess too.)

pictures.

2010-12-15T11:29:00.002-06:00

one of my hobbies is browsing photography blogs, photo competitions, and other artsy web spaces. i have been doing this unintentionally since high school but more intentionally since my intro to photography class i took my sophomore year of college. it serves three purposes really: i enjoy it, it's great for inspiration for my own work, and it's relaxing. the only downfall of doing such is sometimes it leaves me feeling inadequate and wanting to throw the towel in in one of the greatest joys in my life. but talking with other photographers, i guess it's a normal thing.

i came across a ton of great work over the last month and these are the ones that really stuck out to me, for varying reasons. these are my current inspirations.

please note none of these images are my own, i tried to give credit where credit was due, but i'm unsure of all of the photographers.

ken connor.

geof kern.

tim walker.

steve mccurry.

jake chessum.

jason lee.

cig harvey.

geof kern.

hope and agenda.

2010-12-08T04:11:00.001-06:00

Love Actually consistently makes it on my top five Christmas movies to watch before the holidays end. I just love Hugh Grant falling for the chubby girl and how Emma Thompson unwraps that Joni Mitchel CD only to begin to pick up the pieces of her broken marriage. I love how Christmas is its own character that brings all those crazy stories together. One scene that always puzzles me though, is the story line of the young man in love with his best friend's wife. The young man decides to confess his forbidden love and through a note, his message reads, "But for now let me say, without hope or agenda, just because it's Christmas - and at Christmas you tell the truth. To me, you are perfect and my wasted heart will love you." I was always confused by his statement that at Christmas one tells the truth. I don't know if that's just something the writer coined for the screenplay or maybe if it's part of British culture, or if it's just a fact I was left in the dark from. But I like it.

There's something about Christmas that seeps so much excitement, cheer, and coziness that it has to compensate for something. Sometimes I wonder if it is the truth, like Love Actually seems to suggest. So often, when it comes to Christmas, I'm left with the impression of deep longing for what's just out of grasp. We long for meaningful relationships so we patch the ones we have with greeting cards and gifts. We long for peace on earth and so we're compelled to drop a few coins in a bucket to join the jingle of bell ringers. We long for harmony and for a little under a month we're free to smile and tell strangers "Merry Christmas!" when the realities of the complicated tangles of Christmas for each of us is naively swept under the rug for that brief interaction. But it's beautiful, nonetheless. It gives me a glimmer of a future of peace and restoration. Sometimes I don't feel like that day will ever get here. Instead, I'm comfortable to patch up my life with Christmas tradition and artificial interactions, not that those things around wrong. But especially this year, I see where I want to hide in the merriment. I don't want to unwrap my Joni Mitchell CD or have to walk away from the one i think is perfect. But it's Christmas. And at Christmas you tell the truth. So here it is.

The is my last Christmas as a kid. I'm graduating college in a little over a week and I'm being gently placed in a very scary world of responsibility, starting over, and loneliness. This might be my last Christmas with my Pop, who is advancing in Alzheimer's Disease more quickly than I would care to acknowledge. There's a lot I dread at the thought of Christmas, what it means for the new year. I'm leaving some of the greatest people in the world. I know it's time to go, it's been a good run here. I don't want college to be the best years of my life though. But where else am I going to have friendships that thrive during the hours of ten pm and three am? Where else am I going to catch ducks and let them loose in the dorm? I worry I'll struggle for a while to find people who are going to be my new kindred spirits. Things are going to look a lot different -I'm okay with different. I'm just struggling with letting go of the familiar.

I'm not very good at being an adult. I haven't been one long and I'm afraid of messing up or being stupid. Add all the weight of trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, the responsibility of providing for myself and taking care of student loans, wondering what life without insurance is going to be like for a while ... it's hard to have peace some times. All of this is a fantastic reminder that Christ is enough though. He is my provider. He is my rock, refuge, shelter, fortress, friend, father, lover. I have more than enough in Him. And my inabilities and bumblings are not contingent on His plan for my life.

But there is so much more to this holiday season than my existential funks and life transitions. Christ has come, grace was made flesh, and I have a living hope through his life and death. No matter if I'm living out of a card board box or my parent's house or a New York penthouse a year from now, may my circumstances not mar the Gospel and its truth in my life. And that's when I realize, on this cold quiet night, that all is well.

Now the whole world will not be the same,
For love has come down and grace has a name!

Love actually is all around us.
Happy Christmas, interweb.

Bri

poppadop.

2010-10-27T00:01:00.002-05:00

Over the summer I was with my grandfather, who was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. It was just the two of us in the house; I was there tidying up the place while my grandmother went to a hair appointment and my pop sat in his cream lazy boy, drifting in and out of a nap. It was not unusual to have silence accompany the two of us but with my recent move back to my hometown, the realization of my pop's health was hitting harder than I had hoped. I normally love simply being in my pop's presence -especially if we're both occupied. He could talk all day to a fence post and still have a few words to spare and often times it's hard for me to swallow his stories or simply hear them after a handful of times. But that day was different. I hated that he didn't have much to say. The clock in the kitchen just seemed to tick louder and the dryer became obnoxious screeching. I started thinking about how I'll probably be the first grand kid whose name he can't quite remember, and began dreading the day he stopped telling the story about the time I got homesick camping with him or when I used to recruit him to buy me McDonald's cheeseburgers at an obscenely young age. I felt angry that he'll probably never meet my future spouse, or see me being an adult -living out all those life lessons he tried to instill in us. My eyes even began fogging up at the thought of a Christmas without that stupid "yes Virginia, there is a Santa Clause" letter that he reads every. single. year.
The ambient noises of the house laid on my ear like a cheese grater, my chest so full of anger I could barely focus on cleaning the bathroom mirror.
"Hey, Baby girl?" those three words could never still my heart like they did when my Pop's voice floated in from the living room.
I swallowed hard. "Hmm?"
"We sure appreciate you coming over and cleaning today." And that's when it hit me -people have flaws, they get under your skin, the can be cheesy and outdated, you take them for granted, and in the case of family, you're stuck with them forever. I knew in that moment I had the greatest Pop in the whole world. And he was going to continue being the greatest, even when the memories stop being swapped, and he can't remember who I am. I know I can't love something more than I can miss it. I've decided Alzheimer's is not worth getting angry over; I'm just learning to let the good times roll, just me and my Pop.

playing by ear.

2010-09-12T01:09:00.000-05:00

"Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy?" Is. 55:2a

This is the question I feel the Spirit pressing in on me lately. I've been living cheaply and cutting corners when God straightforwardly calls me to obedience. Plain and simple. I've come to the realization that I long to be a disciple without having to practice being a disciple.

This is nothing new, really. When I took piano lessons back in the nineties (oh goodness) I used to make my piano teacher play the song for me so I could "just hear what it sounds like" before she assigned it to me. The next week I'd play it for her and it sounded pretty dang good, only she never caught that I was playing by ear and the only way I even looked like I remotely knew what I was doing in front of that sheet music was because I listened to her play it that one time. Sure, she was pleased, I was pleased, I got my silver star next to the song and we moved on. The problem with it all was that I never really learned music. The ends and outs. I learned just enough to get me by. It was a decent situation then, but today I cringed listening to a Dario Marionelli piano piece, wondering if that could have been me if I hadn't been so keen on cutting corners. The frustrating thing about this all was I had no good reason to do this. I did it simply because I could. And it saved me thirty minutes a day that I usually wasted on writing half baked novels that makes twilight look like a masterpiece. I trashed a bunch of them over the summer cleaning out my room at my parent's house. What a waste.

I'm seeing this pattern continue in my daily disciplines with Christ. I want to be on the front lines of the Gospel where all the action is but I'm refusing to keep myself spiritually fit to be qualified for such a place. I want the glory on behalf of God. I like people thinking I have my crap together and have a great relationship with God. I'm all about honesty but when it comes to where I spend my time, I want to lie and magically re-prioritize my life. God has pressed me and pursued me to seek a more diligent life with Him but it's been messy because I'm a rebel. It's been so hard to admit that over the last year but it's so true; I like being my own independent person who doesn't have to answer to anyone. Ha. This reminds me of a very wise man I worked with last year. Rick used to say. "Bri, be real. But be dignified." I'm sure I'm being real but I'm not sure if it qualifies as dignified. Sorry, Rick.

I know that I'm not alone in this though, because pride is at the root of each one of us. We all are fighting or losing to the urge to make ourselves the center of our lives, it's just that it looks more obvious in my life than probably most.

The Holy Spirit has encouraged me though in this time of realization and disappointment.
"Each time he said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me." 2 Cor. 12:9
I am slowly learning what it mean to surrender wholly to Him, even through my seasons of disobedience. I am learning more about Christ's grace when I have moments of obedience and moments of flagrant disobedience. He truly loves me and that fact alone overwhelms me in my darkest times. I'm thankful I've got a Dad who supports me and a King who presses me to pursue holiness for his glory.

"Discipleship is built entirely on the supernatural grace of God. Walking on the water is east to impulsive pluck, but walking on dry land as a disciple of Jesus Christ is a different thing. Peter walked on the water to go to Jesus, but he followed Him afar off on land. We do not need the grace of God to stand crises, human nature and pride are sufficient, we can face the strain magnificently; but it does require the supernatural grace of God to live twenty-four hours in every day as a saint, to go through the drudgery as a disciple, to live an ordinary, unobserved, ignored existence as a disciple of Jesus. It is inbred in us that we have to do exceptional things for God; but we have not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things, to be holy in the mean streets, among mean people, and this is not learned in five minutes."
.Oswald Chambers

Here I am saying God, I want to give you more than my convenient five minutes. I need to be kept by you because I'm prone to wander. Teach me a lesson in humility and what it means to be loved by you in the mundane. I need you to run with me the race that's set before me because I know with no uncertainty that I will fail if you aren't with me.

punch me in the routine.

2010-08-10T01:17:00.002-05:00

one of the more difficult parts of being a part of life is how continuous and routine it is. each of us wakes at a designated time and completes tasks set before us, whether it's bringing home the bacon, raising offspring, or getting an education. in some ways, this routine is nice. it gives us purpose to our day, it keeps our destructive sides at bay, and allows us to connect with people on a more consistent level. i mean, turn on the tv and some constipated looking reporter lets you know a whole village in peru has been washed away in floods and a new study shows we're all going to die from using our cell phone; all i have to do is turn it off and go floss my teeth. there. i've given purpose to my day by keeping plaque at bay. if i'm really bothered by it, maybe i'll update my facebook status and get it off my chest; this way i'm both being globally minded and fostering open internet relationships. even better. what i'm trying to say is, i like routine and can shelter myself from things out of the ordinary, that is, until it happens to me. and that's when it gets difficult.

i like to think of humans as homemade stuff. like pottery. each piece can be made beautifully and even look a like, but when you trace your fingers over it, you know each one is slightly different. you can feel the patterns of the potters hand moving in a slightly different course and perhaps it's a bit heavier than the others. i know this isn't a new concept, in fact, it's rather cliche. but it makes too much sense for me to try to think of a wittier analogy. i only bring it up to say, i forget there's nothing wrong with me or my life but i choose to look at the pattern of those lives around me instead of the textures. because we all resemble one another in some fashion, i unconsciously choose to believe we should be experiencing the same things and responding in the same ways. i wrongly believe our textures are identical. to put it bluntly, i'm sitting in a minivan in triple digit heat sipping on a coffee that was supposed to be iced -but the barista forgot that part so i cram a donut in my face for size to see if that makes up for the mix up. i try to memorize one bible verse, ONE verse for the week, and already forgot it over the weekend, plus i have a wonderful six month relationship gone down the drain on my mind. of course i'm picking up a beautiful fifteen year old kid i nanny who is an AWANA poster child, nibbling on a single whole grain pita chip who already is feeling refreshed from its nutrients, and is gushing about a boy who is pursuing her with more fervor and romance than mr. darcy himself. and then she turns to you and flashes a sickeningly gorgeous smile and says, "bri, sometimes i wish we could switch lives." that's when it hit me in the gut: she's feeling that smooth even part in her texture of life and i'm definitely feeling that grain. or that part where i got dropped and shattered into a trillion pieces that incidentally got stepped on by orphaned babies and accidentally made their feet bleed.

i, probably more than the average person, love things that are different, but somehow that doesn't seem to apply to issues of the heart. i have found in my young 21 years on earth, that i haven't encountered anything more difficult than having your heart broken over things that have happened in your life, and hearing your alarm clock go off in the morning. because as soon as that alarm clock goes off, your feet hit the carpet and you feel your heart chained to your ankles and that's how you start your day. walking around, dragging that beast of emotion behind you and no one else sees it or feels it like you do. their lives carry on and yours does too, which is so bizarre. how it must feel to wake up after your village has been decimated and realize no one but your community cares. or how it feels to know your spouse has three months to live and you have three wedding invitations on your fridge. or how it feels to be utterly depressed and be in the presence of a dear friend who's life is full of happiness.
life is always hit and miss. it seems cruel but i know that i know better than that. i want a pity party, really. but i don't necessarily want to take the time to stop and listen to the pulses of souls placed in my life to bleed with them to hold their hand or hold a punching bag. i want to change that. existing amidst the routine is hard! i want to be with people who can link arms together and take these days one at a time.

i express this whole topic often to friends and family who nod in agreement but it makes me more frustrated. get angry with me man! i can't decide if i'm frustrated at them for being shallow minded dimwits or my inability to clearly express myself. judging by this stream of consciousness, i'm going with the latter. i hope that one day though i'll gripe the usual, "life needs to stop so i can deal with one thing at a time." and that person will unexpectedly punch me in the face and yell back, "YOU'RE RIGHT!"

you are the branches.

2010-08-03T01:22:00.000-05:00

"oh, we find the christian life so difficult because we seek for god's blessing while we live in our own will. we should be glad to live the christian life according to our own liking. we make our own plans and choose our own work, and then we ask the lord jesus to come in and take care that sin shall not conquer us too much, and that we shall not go too far wrong. we ask him to come in and give us so much of his blessing. but our relationship to jesus ought to be such that we are entirely at his disposal, and every day we ought to come to him humbly and straightforwardly and say: "lord, is there anything in me that is not according to your will, that has not been ordered by you, or that is not entirely given up to you?" oh, if we would wait and wait patiently, i tell you what the result would be. there would spring up a relationship between us and christ so close and so tender that we would afterward be amazed at how we formerly could have lived with the idea: "i am surrendered to christ." we would feel how far distant our relationship with him had previously been, and that he can, and does indeed, come and take actual possession of us, and give unbroken fellowship. the branch calls us to absolute surrender."

.andrew murray

i was who i am.

2010-05-02T21:19:00.000-05:00

oh naive little me
asking what things you have seen
you're vulnerable in your head
you'll scream and you'll wail till you're dead

creatures veiled by night
following things that aren't right
and they're tired and they need to be led
you'll scream and you'll wail till you're dead

but give me to a rambling man
let it always be known that i was who i am

beaten, battered, and cold
my children will live just to grow old
but if i sit here and weep
i'll be blown over by the slightest of breeze

and the weak need to be led
and the tender i'll carry to their bed
and its a pale and cold affair
i'll be damned if i'll be found there

but give me to a rambling man
let it always be known that i was who i am

its funny how the first chords that you come to
are the minor notes that come to serenade you
it's hard to accept yourself as someone
you don't desire
as someone you don't want to be

oh give me to a rambling man
let it always be known that i was who i am
oh give me to a rambling man
let it always be known that i was who i am

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

this is such a beautiful song by laura marling that has been played on my itunes probably a little too much as of late. it's one of those tunes that perfectly describes a bit of who i am. i'm off to hit the books again -finals start up tomorrow, whether i'm ready or not. and i would rather be ready. the picture is of me done by my good friend j.v. martinez with his medium format camera and mad darkroom skills.

words, words, words

2010-03-28T15:51:00.000-05:00

"thanks to the human heart by which we live, thanks to its tenderness, it's joys, and fears, to me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."

.william wordsworth

the dna of grace

2010-03-10T00:47:00.000-06:00

i've been confronted with my destructive behavior a lot lately. i've been teetering on self hatred and throwing the towel in. i'm so disappointed by the fact that there are some things that i might always struggle with for the rest of my life. i hate that speak ill of people without giving a second thought. or even worse, catch myself and continue anyway. i hate that i forget to love others they way they need to be loved and not the way i need to be loved. i hate that i lack compassion, understanding, and discipline. i hate that i emotionally injure myself thinking it's what i need.
i hate that i know all of this and know that i will try to fix these problems, only to realize a few months down the road that they are still present. i hate that god knows all of the above and is okay with it. because i'm not. i want to change. i want people to see me and see god's transforming power in my life. really, i long for perfection, as absurd of a longing that it is. someone close to me recently pointed out that god always uses the broken to pour out his love.

that stuck with me. i want to be that, but the reality is i don't know that i'm brave enough to feel the weight of my sin every day as i carry it on my back, one step behind christ.
maybe i should stop begging god to help me be perfect.
and just ask that he make me a little braver.

"it remains a startling story to those who never understand that the men and women who are truly filled with light are those who have gazed deeply into the darkness of their imperfect existence... my deepest awareness of myself is that i am deeply loved by jesus christ and i have done nothing to earn it or deserve it." .brennan manning

Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness. It strikes us when we walk through the dark valley of a meaningless and empty life. It strikes us when we feel that our separation is deeper than usual, because we have violated another life, a life which we loved, or from which we were estranged. It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us. It strikes us when year, after year, the longed for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsion reign within us as they have for decades, when despair destroys all joy and courage. Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness. If that happens to us, we experience grace. After such an experience, we may not be better than before, and we may not believe more than before. But everything is transformed." .paul tillich

begrudgingly similar.

2010-02-15T17:18:00.004-06:00

I’ve been told everything changes when you fall in love. I have always thought that was a crappy way of expressing that you’re just a sucker. My cynical shoulder angel pacifies and tells me that such phrases are simply ill phrased and used to try to impress the blasé, kind of like the time when my friend Mollie reenacted her favorite scene from The Patriot one afternoon while I puked my guts out from a bad migraine in the seventh grade. I picked up The Odyssey the other day and felt like I was force fed this lie yet again as I rolled my eyes to the fact that Odysseus feels the need to feign his love for Penelope by fighting off Cyclops and having adventures with his men, floating the ocean on a magical veil, feasting with kings, and sleeping with total babes. Homer romantically reinforces Odysseus’ love for Penelope by remembering to tack on the idea that Odysseus only thinks of Penelope when he sleeps with them, of course. What a dedicated hubby –if any literary character has mastered the challenge of taking thoughts captive, he is my gold medalist. I have trouble deciding who I feel sorrier for though: Odysseus for being so blind to his true desires or Penelope, with her angst-y offspring, waiting around for her sly fox of a husband who is suffering a major identity crisis.

I was struck the other day at how much Penelope reminded me of my brother. John is thirteen and stuck at home with our obnoxiously emotional younger sister who fights for attention with Henry, the family poodle. John called me last weekend while I was on a date to complain that our sister had been practicing her cheerleading routines over a dozen times right across from his room and had been picking Henry’s eye boogers and leaving the clouded Kleenexes on top of his freshly laundered clothes. His voice sounded strained and he ended his call by asking when I would be coming home. He always does this, as if I can magically melt his problems away. While I find it somewhat annoying, it does help build anticipation to upcoming breaks from the college grind. I clutter my life at school with enough binge socializing and academia that there is rarely enough space in my slowly frying brain for thoughts of home. But I always tell them I miss them, which isn’t entirely true. I want it to be though. I convince myself I am needed at home and guilt myself with John’s pubescent voice in my head and find myself making a surprise trip home, just me and five loads of laundry.

In my mind, going home is a refreshing idea but John’s behavior is appalling. I make a three and a half hour drive to appease this sympathy drainer and I come home to a house riddled with gaming systems, online social networking, a basketball hoop, and a chubby neighborhood kid we call Beans. I’m lucky to get an afternoon with John, not without fighting Beans for his attention though. The emotional roller coaster I go through to see the guy who guilts me into coming to see him, only then to toy with my affections while being ruled by these agents of separation. I curse them all -except Beans.

I’m frustrated that I let it all bother me. In years past, it wouldn’t have hurt me in the slightest. Like Odysseus with the goddess Calypso on her private island of paradise, I know I would be happier back up at school stuffing my face with cheap Mexican food on the weekends, enjoying the company of my sleep deprived friends. That’s what I should want. Sure, I’m not exactly eating forbidden beef while planning on how I destroy each suitor of John’s attention, yet every semester I find myself tearing my bed sheets off, stuffing them in my laundry basket and taking them home for my annual washing, hoping my dorky little brother will distract me from washing them. But you see in years past, there wasn’t John. It was just my five sisters and me. As much I hate to admit it, when John was born I might have fallen a little bit in love. And begrudgingly I submit to you he might have changed everything in my life. While he and Penelope share a romantic connection and John and I just a platonic one, I can’t help but cry out with Odysseus when I spy John logging onto Facebook and unconsciously signing off his whipped older sister, “by heaven you’ve stung me now!”

What can I say? I suppose I’m a sucker.

with my feet on the dash the world doesn't matter.

2010-01-11T23:16:00.000-06:00

sometimes i look back on my life and can't do anything but giggle. and thank god that things change. i'm grateful to those who've been gracious and allowed me to grow and learn. and those who didn't always make for good stories. hmm. maybe i'll make better mistakes tomorrow.

a common consent

2010-01-10T12:20:00.000-06:00

“The great guide of the world is fashion, and its god is respectability—two phantoms, at which brave men laugh. How many of you look around on society to know what to do. You watch the general current, and then float upon it. You study the popular breeze and shift your sails to suit it. True men do not so. You ask–is it fashionable? If it be fashionable, it must be done. Fashion is the law of multitudes, but it is nothing more than the common consent of fools.”

.charles spurgeon "the common consent of fools"

[thoughts and sundry items pertaining to the last three hundred and sixty-three days]

2009-12-29T02:23:00.001-06:00

I find it odd that at the end of the year it's compelling to review, package up, and file it away. But I do it every year. Remember back in the days when xanga was the old facebook? Every year there are new years surveys that sweep the virtual world, asking vital and fascinating questions as to whether or not you have received a speeding ticket in the duration of the year or which of your friends or relatives have given birth. These were the questions that I thought would entice friends, to heighten my sagging personality, and make the blogging world do a double take on angsty me, Bri Suitt. I have always been this way. I'm more confident with my words than my skin. I feel bolder and wittier behind a computer screen or blank sheet of paper than I could ever be behind a class room desk or the counter of a coffee shop where the cute barista is waiting to be flirted with. I have found it to be rare to stumble upon such reviews by other desperately needy, like-minded survey filler-outers and find them intriguing. Or just bearable. My suspension of disbelief can only go so far until I start realizing these people really are not as enviable as they are making themselves seem. Obviously I believed my reviews were exempt from such eye rollers. I must get it off my chest that all those years of blogging my year review were really just an excuse to be noticed by someone. Even though that someone was usually just Eli, a big time gamer and pyromaniac from Atlanta with a voice resembling Kermit the frog and whose pants always suggested an impending flood. But still. At least Eli read my crappy thoughts. Plus, I could always reinvent him, which I usually did, pretending he wasn't unsettling and geeky but instead, beautiful and mysterious.

But why do I do this? Why must I crave attention so? I blame this fault on many things, middle child syndrome being the largest culprit. Really, I believe the desire to be known is one of those things that throbs out of the heart of every one, every where. But maybe not. Maybe I'm passing off owning up to my personal flaws to every single person on the planet. Even now, this very moment I'm suppressing the urge to talk about my year, about my adventures of living in Missouri, that I have a new cousin that was born a few hours ago, how I almost changed my major, or that I nannied a kid with asperger syndrome who gave me one of his drawings, how I landed a cool photography internship, how I was daring and caught a duck and let it loose in a dormitory or shaved my head, or that I got hit on by a junior higher, who wrongly pegged me as a cougar of sorts. But I'm not going to indulge that desire. Because not only have I realized that other people find rare entertainment out of it but they leave reading such indulgences thinking you're egotistical -and rightly so. Plus I'm above this. This time you're going to have to grovel about my year.

I'm already hating not telling you about my year. Part of me wants to show you the beautiful and mysterious parts of my year, like my imaginary Eli -the parts that if pieced together just so, make me seem effortlessly adventurous, adorable, independent, and intriguing. There's another part of me begging to just reveal how god awful I am -to confess to the empty blog world all this crap I'm dealing with all because it's my fault and no one else's. I have a raw desire to just spill a stream of nasty disappointment because well, that's me. But there's a middle ground that I'm teetering ever so carefully on right now. I think it's called the truth but I won't know until I read this a year from now and either roll my eyes or sigh confidently. But here it is.

Really, I'm just trying to figure out how to be content, to like the skin I'm in, love well the people in my life, to focus on my passions, to be a godly woman. Goodness, some days I'm just trying to figure out how to not disappoint. The whole attention thing is my band-aid to the gaping wound. God is showing me where I need to quit trying to impress myself with the barbie band-aid and just take it off and and take a big wow at the festered and seeping boo boo. How do you allow yourself to be okay with not being okay and trust God with the nuts and bolts of your dismembered self? That's where I am -at the intersection of 2009 and 2010. My prayer is next year I'll be past that. That there will be an unspoken confidence in my relationships with others, that when I spend time with God I will be less constrained to my flaws that keep me from kissing his feet, and that I will live with more intentionality. This sounds well in type but I know that I know it's going to be messy in reality. It always is. You want to know why? Because I'm a mess. That's what Eli said.

happy new year, friend.

raw eggs and death

2009-12-11T04:02:00.004-06:00

I am convinced death is the most misunderstood part of life. My grandpa died when I was five, the memories surprisingly numerable and clearer than I would expect. I was told once I would see him again. Bubba's body would be made new, he wouldn't be in pain anymore, and there would be lots of cracking up and hugs all around. As a child this was easy to accept, unlike the benefits of daily teeth brushing. I remember my father holding back tears at the wake and I couldn't really understand why. I guess my comment to Aunt Diane that Bubba looked like he was napping well wasn't paid much attention and my first encounter with death was less like a blow and more like a pee in the pants. I miss that. The more aware I became of the brokenness and disappointment of life, the more I realized how much death hurts.

"Bubba died of lung cancer. That's why you don't smoke", "You should always wear your seatbelt!” "That's why you should never wade in the beach after sunset" I'm sure if we recorded all the various comments made to us on the subject of personal safety, there would be some golden ones. I remember a few years ago reading about an unfortunate zookeeper who suffocated in a massive pile of elephant feces upon giving the constipated beast a suppository. My sister and I actually talked about how tragically stupid he was not to have dodged its downpour. But between you and I, let me be frank: we're all going to die. Yeah, yeah everyone says that but who really means it? We strategize our whole life on how to escape death. Sit in a bathtub with your arms over your head, which should be tucked between your legs during a tornado. If dehydrating and in a desert, never drink urine -it only speeds the dehydration up. If floating aimlessly in the middle of the sea, tread lightly rotating between the use of the arms and legs so you will tire less quickly and therefore buying more rescue time. And these are the sensible ones. In middle school I went to a church where this sweet old couple told me they took colloidal silver to keep their health up. The idea of taking a pill with straight silver in it is quite unsettling to me. It's funny how we pad ourselves for death’s sting and then bam. We're stunned our feeble padding only made it worse.

Why do we keep doing this? I, more than any, am frustrated by my inability to wrap my mind around death. What if I've put all my eggs in one basket and it turns out there is no heaven and my body rots and little worms start poking out of me and that's, well, that's it? How did I get like this? I mean, now I'm preaching the blessings of daily teeth brushing and flossing but less sure about my new body and heavenly hugs.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, on the day of his execution for conspiring to assassinate Adolf Hitler, referred to death as "the beginning of life". I read that once when I was in eighth grade. The confidence of that statement rattled me quite a bit and it's always been a phrase I've returned to, like a tongue to a mouth sore. I like it though. Death could just be the passageway to eternal bliss. Death has always seemed like such a daunting part of life. But Bonhoeffer stepped through it. That's the poignancy of his statement -he had faith in the unseen. I want a new body, a land of unending happiness; I want to crack up without the interruption of pain. I want to believe.

So I will. I'm banking on this even though I don't have any second hand accounts -just a Bible and barely a mustard seed of faith. I'm tired of the pressures of remembering what side of the road you jog on, in case I get creamed, or if I eat too much cookie dough and die of raw egg overload. My tongue instinctively mopped my teeth just thinking about a slow death by raw egg and realized I forgot to brush my teeth.

heavy heavy boots

2009-12-09T16:12:00.001-06:00

kenny burris died this morning.
i'll never get used to death.

hey Mister, why has my day been crappy?

2009-12-05T03:38:00.002-06:00

Today was a hard day.

Today was similar when you were being parentally nudged into making the jump from 'little kid' to 'big kid' and ordering your meal at the restaurant all by yourself. Or taking a picture next to mickey mouse. With these analogies, I speak to the more reserved demographic, of course.

I'm annoyed I did the right thing. Will I really be happy in the end? I mean, I'll probably just forget about it and if that's the case, I should have just pouted and done what I wanted because I'll probably just forget that too. Who really looks beyond their weekend anyway? I would prefer pedestrian crosswalks to be more like dodging zones, cigarettes to be the fountain of youth, and class to be canceled every Friday. And Monday.

I wanted to be Little Kid today. It's technically tomorrow, but before I slip off into heavy weekend slumber, I can still curl up in my bed that hasn't been made all week and think about all the uncomfortable things that happened today; situations that coaxed my heart into wearing heavy boots and hanging out with friends who approvingly noted my unusual and (quite) compensated gleefulness. I can still whine to God about that and ask silly and redundant questions. Maybe I could manage a few crocodile tears in, too.

Man, kids get away with everything.

i want to be a house pet when i grow up.

2009-11-16T01:11:00.001-06:00

This evening I found myself sitting in my car in a parking lot, with the engine off listening to a film score on my iPod, eating a Big Mac and a McFlurry as it lightly rained and a deep chill settled in the car. All alone. My circumstances proceeded to hit me. And I can't decide if it was a sad circumstance that I should be a wee embarrassed about or if it's a quirky representation of how college students manage to find some solitude and a bit of relaxation. Honestly, I was having my dinner. At 10:45 PM. Now that's a bit of a shameful confession.

I need prayer this week to finish strong! I just want to curl up on my bed and have a dreamless sleep for three days straight -maybe wake up to be fed or have my head scratched or something, but otherwise pretty much left undisturbed. I sound like I have aspirations to become a house pet.

I hope you're well :)

things i like

2009-11-14T13:52:00.002-06:00

I listened to david sedaris answer five random questions, one of which was "if you could kick any politician in the shins, who would it be?" i could listen to him all day. sometimes i think we'd get along well. who knows though? i also just listened to jonathan safran foer read a short story. two of my favorite authors back to back. nice.

now listening to the national and forcing myself to write this paper over the dangers of the emerging church. i don't really care anymore though.

i want to listen to some joy division or the kills heading to sonic happy hour and then off to log footage with the crew for our documentary over indie pro-wrestling in northwest arkansas. there's so much comradery wrapped up in the story. i like being a part of something that really tells a good story.i think this is something i'm going to be proud of.

in other news: i'm exhausted of school and ready to have this semester behind me. i have three huge projects i need to work on and then i can go home and rest. rest is such a foreign concept. the most i have gotten thus far has been laying in bed for three days with H1N1. yeah.

this is me whacking my sweet friend kristen in the head. she's a real pal.

a midwaist giveaway

2009-10-13T00:15:00.005-05:00

Evangelical theology has been tedious, to be perfectly honest. I feel like nothing more could be fleshed out about the incarnate Christ (no pun intended) and today I struggled to keep the eyelids from fluttering to a closed stop. To begin my 50 minute battle with my old foe I picked up my favorite ink pen and began to draw petty objects, or rather, petty representations of objects. It's a common ritual for me. This particular professor posed a question that irritated me. Why does one ask questions that are circular arguments? And obviously, if this question is being posed in the fall 2009 Evangelical Theology class in section B, I'm sure it's an argument that has been ongoing well before the establishment of this class at John Brown University. Anyway. As he posed this question, I looked up to hopefully shoot him a subtle, respectful (ha) look that would seem to say, "Are you sure you want to ask this? Carefully examine before answering." But before I threw out my self nominated award winning look, something caught my attention. My intent eye strayed from his face but for a second only to behold a very odd object fastened to his body.

Let it be known, this professor is a hybrid of sorts. I knew this even before enrolling in one of his courses. His subject of interest is the outdoors and he teaches all of the outdoor leadership classes and frequently works at camps in his spare time. I always found it strange that this incredibly timid, introverted man was the outdoor leadership go-to, as well as a biblical studies, much less a professor. I wonder if people such as himself had always planned on going into education. I would find it a bit oxymoronic in his case. Even when he speaks there is a reluctancy to let the words fall out of his mouth. He seems to ponder each word before allowing them to form into a command, fact, or joke. On any given day it's endearing or trying.

Sure, it was just a belt but the azure and burnt orange flashes of color must have been the factors of my optical bunny trail. This man only wore neutral colors. I would put money on his undergarments and pajamas being some variation of an oatmeal or bambi brown shade. Maybe a ever-green to spice things up. But this belt! I tried not to be obvious but I could not figure out what was going on that strap. Sure enough, as he inched a little closer to a self-denying peeping tom, I made out a continuous mountain range tiling around his waist with a very vibrant sunrise behind it. Atypical was my initial thought. So, that was a lie. Ridiculous might have been more accurate. I then proceeded to thoroughly piece together his outfit. I noticed he wore a nice, pastor-y looking collared cotton shirt in an appropriate night sky blue and poison ivy green - kind of like those long sleeved golf shirts, whatever their Christian name is. His small spectacles, polished brown shoes and neatly trimmed goatee affirmed the general Bible professor look well. I then noticed his pants. I'm sure they were hiking pants, as little as I know of such things. But they were of a fancy khaki windbreaker like material with zip offs that would leave some assuredly scandalous sun-forsaken thighs in sight. He made the wise decision to keep his options open by leaving the zip offs on, for which I was grateful.

My thoughts of ill posed questions over the peccability or impeccability of Christ had totally exited my mind as had my chance of winning that award for the most thought provoking look. I was fine with that, initially because I was amused by a fifty-something professor who had no fashion sense. But as soon as that thought green-lighted into my conscious, I immediately caught its error.

This man, as withdrawn and confused as he may seem, had perfectly described to me a bit of who he was. Neither of his jobs seem to really fit. I'm sure he doesn't exactly mold well with the rest of the biblical studies faculty. Of course someone as quiet as him would love the silent beauty of nature and the Bible enough to drag his knowledge and thoughts out for others so they could discover them too. Though introverted and quiet, today he said loudly, this is who God has created me to be. The belt was definitely the thesis of his statement. What else could that man have worn that would have surmised better of who he was? It kind of made me want one.

I'll have to keep my eye out for a belt with different countries on them with famous pieces of art and jumbo treble clefts. Maybe it should be one of those 3D belts so all of the elements can jump out at any given moment and demand someone else to examine the grins of who God has made them to be.

"Why don't you straighten up the mess that's inside!" -Poor Professor Higgins

2009-10-08T23:16:00.003-05:00

I'm between just completing a paper over how Jacopo da Pontormo's painting "Entombment" relates to both the incarnate and divine Christ for evangelical theology and a paper over my documentary film idea to be submitted and voted over in class tomorrow. I've decided to seize the moment and hash out a bit of my life. Two things come immediately to my mind:

1. Glee has been such fun to watch this semester. It's the first semester I've allowed myself to watch TV since being at college and it's be so fun. There are a lot of reasons I believe this show works and I've already discussed them at length with my roommate, Swys. I don't feel like rewriting them. Sorry.

2. As the weather gets cooler, I find myself getting lonely. It happens every year. It's like a form of mild seasonal depression or something. Right now the only thing that sounds good is snuggling up in a hoodie, with apple cider in one hand, and someone else's hand in the other. I think I've unconsciously romanticized the fall and seem to find a lacking contentment without my fantasies, although I did indulge on an apple cider at Starbucks late last week. That was nice.

I'm quite honestly overwhelmed this semester with school and my internship but I love all the people time allows me to interact with. I've become closer with my bosses, Jonathan and Becky and love doing photography with them. They always are laid back and are quick to affirm my abilities. It's been a great learning experience. I love my roommate. She's just a little hippie and we have bonded over a love of music, cultures, fruit enhanced oatmeal, and of course, art. I love all of my old friends who have been a blast catching up with and seeing how our friendships have taken different turns and how exciting that is. I've loved meeting JEPhotography clients and getting to be a part of some of the most special times in their lives. All have been so kind.

Right now, I'm sitting in my unmade bed with my jam packed planner and texts books atop. My carpet needs vacuuming, dishes needs washing, clothes need hanging. I could have done all this tomorrow morning, but I've decided to babysit a friend/classmate's little two year old instead so she can clean house and do laundry without interruption. I can't wait! Straightening up my life however, will just have to.

Back to finishing my treatment for non-fiction film. I may get to bed before 1:00 AM this week! Yay! ;)

Cheers Beards and Banjos,

Bri

small

2009-10-03T13:27:00.005-05:00

I was thinking how sometimes it's easy to hold onto things for too long and what a heartache that is. Maybe there is security in pain, a sort of contentment in lack of control. Sometimes the most triumphant moments are so ordinary, to question its significance would seem like folly.

And with one word, one gesture, one thought, the moment is gone.

Oh, but the absence of its silent weight! It would be a rarity for anyone else to notice; besides, nothing really changes except a lighter breath, a more reassuring smile, a peaceful wink of slumber, a more confident thought of the future.

Yesterday I finally threw mine away in a trashcan outside of a gas station in Jefferson City.

Little Green Puzzle Piece

2008-05-20T23:10:00.004-05:00

[church love]

"Today’s Church is like an insecure teenager. A teen struggling with self-image has no idea who he or she is and ends up morphing into a different person with each passing crowd, becoming like whoever happens to be closest at the time.”
-Brian Habig & Les Newsom

Madre and I have been talking shop lately. When I say 'shop', in the context of my mother, it always means the Church or Christian liberty. Nothing else. Lately, it has been the Church. What is the overall function of the Church? What constitutes a member pulling out of a congregation? What is the most important aspect of ministry? These are just a few things that keep being brought up. I bought her Habig and Newsom's book, The Enduring Community, while I was at R.U.F's summer conference last week and it has been an excellent host for discussion.

If any of you (who are more than likely not reading this. I pretty much use this thing as an excuse to think aloud and breath mentally) have known me for any amount of time, you've probably heard me say, "I love the Church. The Church is where I feel most alive." in a very gutsy, passionate moment. Yes, this is me -to the core. Now, you can find me even more often complaining about churches and how religious they are and how stuffy and cultural it's become, but to my core being, I love the church. I hope this is one of those things that is here to stay. I don't want to be the mom that skips church because her kids are better off learning the Bible at home, or one of those wives that gets angry at church politics and listens to sermons online while her husbers attends. Nope. I refuse to even imagine. Well, it's kind of hard to imagine me married and being a preggers but that's a whole other thought process...

I want to be that lady who is decrepit and basically blind who goes to church whenever she possibly can. Maybe I'll change my name to Breezy. That sounds like an old lady name. Maybe little girls and teenage boys will know me and maybe I can attend old people Bible study and mentor young mommies. Or old mommies. And maybe I will sing worship songs that are probably obnoxious and too young for me at the top of my lungs, just because God is big. I want to be with my church until I croak, leading the way while being led. Wow. That makes aging seem worthwhile right now. There's something so great about the thought of showing someone how glorious it is to die. But so often it's easy to shut the elderly members of our congregations and compartmentalize members so we don't get to glean from the old or young. That is something God has definitely been pressing on me lately.

And it's hard being home and back at your home church and not quite fitting back in perfectly. It's like being on of those little green puzzle pieces from a 2500 piece garden scene that doesn't really fit the other piece but if you mash it just right, it kind of works, even though you know better. Honestly, I like this feeling. I have had so many struggles while being away from home that God -in His complete kindness- decided to give me a church that I have fallen in love with. It's hard not to compare being at home. It's actually been really hard to leave for the summer. It's definitely one of the main things I have missed since returning from John Brown. And that, I think, is cause for thanks. I keep learning that God is crazy about a whorish society, under his means of grace, that we like to call the Church. And I'm almost proud to be a part of it.

Almost.

As Jon Foreman tells it,

"We are a beautiful letdown
Painfully uncool
The church of the dropouts
The losers, the sinners, the failures, and the fools
What a beautiful letdown
Are we salt in the wound"

And all of God's children said
Amen.

Home on the Range

2008-05-03T00:57:00.005-05:00

I'm home.

I don't think it will sink in that I'm not leaving soon for a while. It's good to be with the family. Tonight was chill. We unpacked, watched Home Improvement and The Incredibles, chatted, played catch with Henry, made pancakes, and admired our newest summer addition: Shakira. Shakira is a male beta fish whose owner will be in Ireland next week. So he's staying with us.

Goodbyes were wretchedness. Finn and Ally won't be coming back in the fall, and that is sad. I have been so blessed to know them, especially Finneas. I'm glad me and Roommate are going to the beach together next week, otherwise I would have burst into tears saying goodbye. I love that kid so much. Gah. God has not only given me a fantastic roommate, but an incredible friend. If you're around us at all, you know we hang out literally, at times, 24/7. Seniors graduate. You'd think that wouldn't mean much to a freshman but there are some freaking amazing seniors at JBU that have been so kind and a friend -I will truly miss many of them. I also had to say goodbye to my Sunday school class. While I will resume teaching in the fall, I won't have the same kids. My kids are hilarious and have given me the strength many weeks to keep sloshing through school. I don't have pictures of them either! Arg. I hate how these things happen. Anyway, although you probably will never read this, to Donte, Harrison, Nathan, Teague, Charity, Elliot, Alex, Erica, and Nora: I love you all. Your outlook on life presses me on to find God in the littlest things. You have definitely taught me a thing or two this semester. And whoever started the trend of calling me "stinky cheese" ...sigh.

Well, let's see. It's late, but I don't really feel like going to bed. ...but I should. So I will.
Here's to a lovely summer under the roof of these two:

[For realz: this is priceless. They probably would kill me if they knew this was on here. Baha]

[The Hardest Button to Button]

2008-04-29T19:33:00.002-05:00

Bri's freshman year is quickly coming to a close. I really can hardly believe, as trite as it sounds. This past year has been a muddle of change and growth. It's been fun, it's been HARD, but it's been genuinely good. Things happened that were completely out of my control. Something happened that I had a lot of control over that, looking back, I wish I didn't have control.

A lot of things have happened that I'm not proud of, there's a lot that I am proud of. I've seen sides of me I didn't know I had. I have met so many beautiful people this year and lost old friendships with some. College has been a wake up call. College is also sheltering me from a real world. I've felt inadequacy like never before, yet I've been pushed and encouraged in directions I never thought I would. God has been far from me, yet God has never been nearer. Oh, the paradoxes of this past year!

But one thing has stayed completely untouched throughout all my short comings, successes, crushed sprit, and rejoicings: God is real. And I am His. I have always struggled with the basics of Christianity. Oh, I have theological views and Christian life theories all figured out, but it's those little things like GRACE or OBEDIENCE that I struggle with. And probably will for the rest of my life. But this year an unwavering truth, no matter how hard or strange my life may be, has that God is absolutely real and loving me.

I know everyone has gone through about as much change as I have before, at some point in their life, but it's mind boggling for me to think about it at this moment. Most of this change has been fun and acknowledged as good things. But there has been a lot that has been so tough. I think back to those moments that found me banging angrily on a piano in a practice room, tears falling on my fingers, or making those phone calls that leave you feeling worthless, or sitting in a chapel service feeling completely isolated, even from your God. Especially God. Or having conversations with wise adults that tell you like it is ...and the answer is not easy.

There was so much going on in my life that I could hardly function as a person. Sometimes I felt like I was just floating between who I was and who I knew I needed to be, without anyway to get from one place to the other. Through Christ, I can forgive people who have caused me pain -and truly forgive. Through Him, I see that I all I need is the Father.

Grown up? Not at all.

I want to be perfect so badly, but I'm afraid you're just going to have to take me as I am. Just like Jack White puts it, "sometimes I just feel like you're the hardest button to button".
All that to say, this has been an absolutely fantastic year. It's not been easy, but who wants easy? The Lord is near to the broken.

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

- The Velveteen Rabbit

Peace
[Let us press on, press on to know the LORD...] hosea 6:1-3