Glacial

I'm in a shlump. That's blatantly obvious by my lack of writing and running. Well, I have been writing some, but only papers for the end of the semester. Which I'm totally and utterly done with. Only three more weeks though and I'll be back to it. GUHH.
It's been weird because you would've thought I'm at my happiest right now. My love is back from Iraq (and has been for three months now), I survived my first deployment as a military girlfriend stronger in my faith then I thought I knew, I finished the semester pretty much with A's and I only have one year left of school,I'm running my second half marathon in May, I'm going to Ireland next summer, my family is joyous and wonderful, my friends are fantastic, I have a wonderful God who loves me, I just turned 21!
Why can't I look at that list and let my heart jump for joy? I just don't understand. There are so many blessings and good things going on but it feels as if my heart strings have been severed. The heart that fits so perfectly in it's cavity isn't working. I can't focus, I don't conversate very well with Him right now because of that focus. I feel like I'm not pacing through life. I'm just slogging. It all goes back to that brain and heart thing. My brain is fried yet it's what is living my life. I just got the coolest sweatshirt ever for Christmas and it has my favorite verse on it, Hebrews 12:1-3. "Let us run with perseverance....." That's all I want to do. To take one more step with strength, to focus, to run per say through life. Not always literally (though I love that too.) Why does it seem so easy to not focus on the long list of blessings in our lives?
Tthere is a hindrance in my way. It's such a tiny thing too compared to all that is good. God tells us not to worry, not to focus on tomorrow, or what we'll eat or what we'll wear... but I do. It's like I try to carry the stress and the weight of my ENTIRE life and yet, it's all ready been carried for me. I just need to let my heart find that.

Glacial

The heart runs to a place I can't search
Come back to me
I beg you
When you are lost
world
tips on it's side,
like a child playing with a globe.
Africa spins and lands where Antarctica belongs.
An arctic wasteland, you abide in the wrong corner.
Bring warmth where all hope is gone
Don't let the frozen world spin you. You are where you belong because you were given.

To step forward with faith is an amazing thing. And it doesn't even have to be a big step. But I know I can do it because my heart isn't a glacier. It's full, and warm, and blessed, and given. I don't need anyone to tell me that, I don't need sun to make me feel better (though I do love it), I don't need to be in a special place, or even on the top of my game. I just have to understand that I have a heart and my heart is full. Focus doesn't come because I've fried myself. It doesn't come because I don't want it too. We just have to choose. To wake up in the morning and smile , To be happy, to have lots of heart. To take that step of perseverance. The world will beat us down but we don't have to let it. We can get up each and every time because we were given the chance too. We just have to embrace that chance. Carpe Diem (I know... overused but I still love it so...) Carpe Diem.

heart poetry

i found a little time this weekend (thanks Lib) and actually sat down to write. amazing that when i actually devote time to poetry, i find poems. i'm embracing this beautiful gift.... thank you. enjoy world. loves.

Away Without Leave and the Laundry Left Behind

Moon splashes
the side of your bed
you are gone
I did laundry at 3 am again
then I wrote you a letter
I thought I heard you speaking, calling me back to bed
I felt the heaviness of your arm fall
across my stomach
my husband, my soldier

Your ghost
The one I lie awake with every night
Sleep doesn’t come without you

Love Exhales in the Middle of the Night

My steel –eyed,
long distance lover
battles in the night
Moonlight across his face
courage written strongly in the lines
Love buried underneath
the depths of his soul,
flights in motion
He defends the ground I walk upon
When he breaks down doors
and silently stalks the lines

A soldier cries.

Almost dawn and the moonlight brushes an empty bed
I lie awake, empty
Love traverses time

It starts in my soul.

Word Vomit

I HATE not having words to write when I want to write....
On the other hand... I'm quite smiley this evening. Little things happen.

Sun-Kissed

How does time feel like forever on some days?? It seems as if so much has crawled past me in a few days that I can't even remember the last time I wrote. When was my last poem? My last jotted thought? My last note, my last attempt? And whatever happened to my novel? Yes, I said novel. I'm not even alcohol consuption legal and I'm attempting a novel.
Although these days it seems as if just about everyone is writing a novel, but only if you're the daughter of someone famous or have connections can you get it published. Doesn't keep me from trying though.

I've discovered though I have trouble writing in the Midwest. My muse is the Ocean waves. I miss my summer. My mornings at the beach, my 'early riser' beach diner breakfast for $3.95. I miss the sun and the sea breeze. I miss my sun-kissed freckles, my natural tan. I hate having to dry my hair straight when I used to let the salt water create the waves. I even miss the sand collecting in every crevice of my car and house and clothes. Most days I just miss it.

Life is good and simple in the Midwest but it's just different than the shore.

Succeeding in Life

"To know that one person has breathed easier because you have lived-- that is to have succeeded."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson


I've come to a point in life where there is a big fork in the road, a major choice and I am the only the one who can decide it. There's a career way and then there's a side where I can live. Two major opportunities, both that sound wonderful, but I can't have two lives.
I was thinking about this quote from Emerson (I love what he has to say sometimes) and it just strikes me. I want to live. I want to not know what tomorrow will bring, but instead to take it for all it's worth. To make the risks, to make the choice I need too without having to worry about everything like money, or time, or stress. I want to live because God tells us that when we do, when we live for him, we affect the lives of so many people. We don't even know. I anticipate the day in heaven when a stranger comes up to me and says thank you. And I have no clue who they are or what I've done.
I don't want to go through life just for a career and money. Though I would enjoy a very good, fancy job, that's not what living is to me. I want to enjoy life without stress. To travel, to do the impossible (because nothing is impossible), to get married, and live a life of spontaneity.
When you don't know who what is coming next; what exactly God is going to put in your path....that is to have succeeded.

Just a thought

God is beautiful. And good.


And I love life. Even if tomorrow is the yuckiest day on earth. I still love life.

We do not deserve the daily blessings we receive, but in his beauty, they still come.

On Par with Life

I despise golf. Well, I suppose I can’t completely say I despise the game because the only golfing I’ve done has been at the Putt Putt course. I can remember I spent most Weekend afternoons while I was growing up flipping through the T.V. channels and all I could find on was golf tournaments. I’d usually plan my afternoon nap then. It was just boring to me. What was the point in driving a ball halfway across the green just to rack up a small number of points? I always thought the more you had, the better you won. And honestly, how can it be worth all that money?

That was before I started praying for my best friend’s Granny. Now, I’ve decided I want to shoot a 57.

Seems kind of impossible for me to shoot a 57 on a golf course with a par of 73 being a golfer who’s never even picked up a real club; but I’ve learned that with God, nothing is impossible, not even a good golf score.

Two years ago I entered into my first year of college and found a great friend of mine through the Christian Campus House. We’re like Batman and Robin now. Two years ago, my superhero friend’s Granny passed out on a golf course. Now, I know golf can get boring sometimes, but Granny has been a golfer her whole life. She wasn’t bored. She was sick, and didn’t know from what.

For a year she was in and out of the hospital, continually getting worse and continually being told they didn’t know what was wrong with her. The doctors kept saying it wasn’t cancer. A year later she started her first Chemo treatment.

By that time, Granny had been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer and it had spread throughout her body. I became a prayer warrior. I hadn’t met Granny then but it didn’t matter, she and my friend needed my prayers. Matthew 6:33-34 was a constant. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

I never knew day to day how things were going to turn out with Granny. Some days the updates I got were good, other days, they sounded as if there might not be a tomorrow. Even through all of them I kept praying. For Granny, and for my friend. If either let worry set in, the days would have become endless. They didn’t have time to think about tomorrow because today, as God tells us, brought enough of its own thoughts. God was the constant. He was the today. After Granny’s eighteen treatment Chemo schedule (nine treatments are the normal for most cancer patients) she had a double mastectomy. Six months ago at 80 years old, Granny persevered through a process I don’t even think I, at 20, could handle.

But she did it and she came out strong. Since then she has finished her Radiation treatment and is on her way to remission. Like most cancer patients, it’s going to be a long road, but Granny is one strong woman. This week she ventured to the golf course again. A place she hasn’t been on for two years since she last passed out on it. For some people, it’s hard to get back up on the horse they’ve fallen off of. But not Granny. She welcomed it. And on her first golf round she shot a 57 on a par of 73.

Matthew 17:20 is tattooed on my foot. He replied, “I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard see, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you. Cancer is a hard thing to face in life, and God uses it in many ways, but I knew in my prayers that nothing was going to be impossible for Him in this situation. Oddly enough, I’ve still never met my friend’s Granny, but I feel like I know her, like I owe her one of the biggest thanks in my life. Praying for her and hearing her golf story made me realize truly how important it is to face each day as it comes without one reservation. To let tomorrow’s worries be tomorrow’s worries and to believe with every ounce of my being, every mustard seed of my faith that nothing, not one speck of life will be impossible for me.

Granny is a woman who faced her days for the past two years with nothing but strength. She never knew what the next sunrise was going to bring her but she let them come. She faced it one day at a time as we are supposed to do. That’s what I want to do. I want to be able to face life and shoot a 57. I may never find a golf course that fits me, but life is my golf course and God is my caddy. Whatever comes my way I can face it; I can get back up and swing. God has my clubs; He is carrying my worries so that I can have the game of my life. I want to face today and I want to match Granny.

I’m not quite halfway into my junior year of college and life is moving rapidly. I’ve moved out of my parent’s house and I’m living on my own. I’m starting to decide whether I eventually want to go to Graduate school or to what kind of job I want my major to take me. Not to mention where. And on top of all that, I’ll probably be planning a wedding soon and starting to mesh a life together with a husband. Those things bring a lot of worries. Some days I wake up and all those worries crowd together in my head and I feel like I can’t make it; not even beginning to think about what I have to do that particular day. But it’s on those days when I think about Granny and how if she faced the impossible then so can I. The Creator I serve is so much more powerful than a little shadow of worry. He willingly carries my shadows to allow me to live freely. Because of that I choose to wake up each day by one thought.

I want to shoot a 57.

Intoxicating

"Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath."
-Natalie Goldberg

Right now this is how I feel. Between the noise levels at work, the constant flow of people, the never ending need of something done... I cannot focus.

Then there happens to be the multi-array of colorful Starbursts occupying the fishbowl. I can't keep my eyes, or my fingers away.

Maybe soon I'll find some peace in the rain drops.

Pacing through Life

For seven months I felt like I was on a hill that just continued to climb. Never was I going to cross the crest and find the sunrise on the other side. At least, that was what my mind kept telling me. My heart really wanted that sunrise.
Not only was I living on an ever climbing hill, but it seemed like I just kept watching the sunset. Oh, don't get me wrong, a sunset is beautiful... but it's the end of the day. The end; and I, I like the beginning. of things.
Beginnings always bring something new. The sunrise brings a new day to praise. A new day to live. Story beginnings bring a new adventure; the start of a relationship bring excitement; a friendship beginning brings a chance for life. The first sip of coffee, or lick of an ice cream cone bring a smile. Just looking at beginnings we can always see something good. Something new, something alive. But what about the end?
Most of the time the end is always looked at so pessimistically. We never give it a chance to grow on us. We don't want the day to be over because we have so much to do. Or, maybe we don't want to lose that friend, or that love. Finishing a story sometimes brings tears or anger because it didn't end like we wanted it too. Too many times we try to figure out the end, or live only dreading the end because we only see what we want to see. On that hill, all I see is a sunset... an end to a day, a run, a goal, a task that I didn't get done. And because I only see that end I stress, I worry, I fill my heart with the anxiety that rules my head. Suddenly, that connection is broken. I stop pacing myself with my heart and instead pace myself through my head. All the promises of new things, of stress free things my heart tells me is gone.
My heart is my soul. My faith, my love, my blessings, my life... and my head, well, most of the time it isn't connected to my heart because it's too filled with the worldly lies satan throws at me. Though I try and strive to live through my heart, my head gets the better of me. When that chord between the two is severed, all I begin to see is the end. Just the blasted end.
Ecclesiastes chapter 3 tells me that there is a time and a place for everything under the sun. That means there is a time to begin and a time to end. So when I really think about it; when I focus with my heart... a time for an end is really the beginning.
For seven months I was on a hill climbing up never thinking I would make it to the end. When all this time the end was really what I was waiting for. The end was bringing the beginning of something new. Think about it. A sunset actually brings the night. Something new. A sunset, the end of the day, brings the chance for a new one. A chance to start over, to do something more wonderful. The end of a story brings about imagination. Even the end of a relationship or a friendship beings the chance to start over, to find the one that will really fit. Endings are divine. They happen so that we may learn. They happen so that we have a chance to take another adventure in life. This time, realizing that an end is only the start of something beautiful awaiting us.
I paced myself for seven months waiting for my love's deployment to end. All this time I never saw how good the end would be. I pessimistically stereotyped the end thinking that it would never come. And when it did, that it would bring about more stress. When really,we were running towards something wonderful the whole time. The pace to the end was beautiful. I just didn't let my heart see that.
When I hugged him as he stepped off the bus this weekend, I knew the end had finally come. I had reached that hilltop. My heart took over when I realized that end was only the beginning.
If I think about life with my heart, it's so simple. It's about beginnings and ends. It's about pacing with the beat of my soul, my heart; not the pulse of my brain. There's a time for every beginning and a time for every end. But the beauty of it all, is that the end simply is only the beginning. Life comes full circle at us, all we have to do is pace.

God Hears

Let's say it was a beautiful day.

I ran four miles this morning in under 40 minutes... perfect pacing. It was a great run. I woke up and was out the door before the sun was even near the horizon. I love the feeling of being outside for a good span of time while the world wakes up. Time doesn't exist when I run. It just moves along to the beat of my breath and somehow passes as my footsteps rhythmically pound the concrete. The world wasn't quite full sun by the time I got back to my apartment, but it was that moment when the sky is a dusky orange and pink; when you can still see the baby blue spanning the city. The sky blushes; almost as if it's embarrassed I'm watching it wake up. Those early minutes when I start out, the world is naked and vulnerable. Nothing there but myself and the new day. We wake up together. Without it's nakedness, morning wouldn't be morning. There would be nothing new to wake up too. And I wouldn't have reason to run

School was intriguing. I learned. I loved it.

The best news of the day... the one that gives me reason to smile for the rest of my life is that he is coming home. He's on his way back to America after too many months of deployment. Praise God. I mean that... in every way. I will sound the trumpet, play the lyre, sing songs, and bow down. I'm so thankful that heand the rest of his men are safe and coming back to U.S soil. I thought this deployment was going to be very hard, and I know I'm lucky, it wasn't as long as most are. But God shoved my thoughts aside once again and showed me the beauty of his Glory. He was there in every moment. All those days the guys were out in danger. He was there. And he was here with me too. Every chance I had to talk to him, to see him online, and even on those days when I went without talking to him, or when I woke up and just felt like I couldn't face the world, I still felt him. I still felt him because God was there. He is in our love and I believe He can do amazing things with deep, faithfully rooted love.
God is love... and that love runs deep in my soul. Not just flowing in me through my heart, but deep to the core of my being. The love that makes up my soul is deeper than I'll ever be able to explain. But I feel it. It exists in me.
I have learned that no matter what crosses my path, especially when it comes to love, that I can and will get through anything. Nothing is impossible with God. And if anyone challenges me, I'll give them the same answer I've been giving for the past two years dealing with distance and the way life flows. Through all the risks, the hurt, the walls, the breaking, the future. The only way is God. And that is how I'll forever love.

How to Enjoy a Rainy Day

I've discovered a nice Thunderstorm is made perfect with a cup of sweet coffee and some very good jazz.

It makes the mood even more festive. Especially if there's dancing.

Just a thought

Woooohoo...
I found some really neat things for my current piece of art that I am working on. I am excited to find time this weekend to create.

Life is my canvas. Whether I am running, homeworking, schooling, listening, or creating, it is my canvas. And I love every moment of it.

What is most exciting though it that God has given me this creative gene. I contemplate with my family many a times about just where this gene came from. Sometimes I even argue myself as to if I really have this gene. And then I think... God is God (duh!) and he pretty much can give me whatever he wants too whether it comes as a gene from my family or not. And if it's creativity, whether visual art or writing, I'm totally going to accept it.

Enjoy the night.

Tug-o-war of the mind

My brain is clouded. I hate days like this.

It's as if the words that exist in the writing part of my brain, all the ideas I've accumulated, they just sit there. Float around my head, while I pull snippets out here and there but not enough to make a complete thought today.

I pull and play tug-o-war with my brain, but today it feels like it's winning. I used to love tug-o-war too. Especially when we played girls against boys. It gave my friends and I a chance to prove as a kid, that girls were just a strong as boys. And how fun it was pulling them across the line. Feeling the slack as we knew we were winning. Such a great accomplishment.

Too bad my mind isn't cooperating like that today. I think I even had something great going this morning while I was running, but that idea ran right out of my brain too.


It's not writer's block. Just war of the mind. And I'll fight it.

Laundry and T shirts

Just a little creative juices flowing...

"She'd been in the apartments two weeks and had yet to meet any of the other tenants, let alone actually see any of them. Two weeks, well that constituted a weekend devoted to laundry which she hated. It wasn't that doing laundry was so bad, in fact, folding could sometimes be soothing, especially when the fabric softener emanated the smell of lavender. And she loved folding his t shirts. The ones he left at her place. Some mornings she'd be going through her drawers trying to figure out what her body felt like wearing that day, and in between her clothes she'd find one of his random t shirts, or maybe a pair of boxer shorts. Those she saved for sleeping in. But pulling on one of his t shirts over her green silk bras and feeling the soft, worn cotton on her skin; even with the lavender fabric softener she could still smell his man scent. That mix of soap, cologne, and little bit of sweat. Those shirts made every day better.
The worst part of laundry was dragging everything down the hall to the boxed room and pushing quarters into the machine. Those quarters could be buying her a triple shot latte on mornings when all she wanted to do was stay cozy in bed and watch the sun come in through the slits in the shades. The sun added that extra warmth the comforter just didn't fill. Especially when the spot beside her was empty.
T shirts, no matter how many times she wore them, weren't going to bring him back. "

Just a thought

Life is much easier when we give it up.

just my simple thought.

It Mattered to Me

This semester I'm taking an Adolescent and Young Adult literature class and I'm LOVING it!! For my first assignment I had to

reminisce

and think about my transition from adolescence to adulthood. Or at least from my junior high years to high school. The writer in me came out. Enjoy.

It Mattered to Me: Defining my Adolescence

As a twelve year old girl, I was the Zebra with lime green stripes. It was as if I was born a part of my schoolmates’ herd but for some reason, I was given green stripes instead of white. I looked like the kids my age, as normal as any junior higher could be, and I talked like the kids my age, trying to act wiser beyond my years; but something kept me apart from them. I imagine it was the green stripes.

When I think about my transition from adolescence into adulthood, I cringe. Mainly because it was tough. Those stripes of mine, that difference, really defined me. But those different stripes were important to me. They mattered. From a young age my parents raised me in a church and my Christian faith was my heart. It distinctly set me on a different path then my peers; but it was a path that fashioned my adulthood. Because of my faith I have always looked at life a little differently then some of my peers and when I was an adolescent that difference had significance. I was the child who in fourth grade wrote an Easter essay saying what it really meant to me was about how Jesus was my friend. I did not look at Easter as finding colored eggs hidden in plastic grass, or as infinite supply of jelly beans. To me, it was about faith. A junior high girl just did not do things that differently in my school because if she did, then she was not labeled ‘cool.’ That was me, not cool.

As that junior high girl, new to the world of popularity, boys, and appearance, part of me wanted to give everything to fit it and be one of the girls who was “going out” with the captain of the basketball team. So I tried the best I knew how and that was to go out for every sport school offered and to quit being bookish. I tried cheerleading, volleyball, basketball, softball, and track and field. After all, anybody who was anybody played sports. Yet, none of those fit except track. This later turned out to be a defining point for me.

Yes, I loved playing sports but I didn’t come from a family with an important name so I did not get playing time. Instead, I sat the bench and watched while all the other girls got the glory and the guys. It affected me, my self-esteem a little but, but I knew in my faith that those things didn’t truly matter. It all related to Easter as a ten year old. After all that trial and error, I went back to what I was good at, just being me. That was accepting the things I did like, and that was school. Reading, writing, and learning was really who I was. I was the nerd. And even though it was tough to stand apart in junior high, I proudly admitted it and used it to the best of my ability by joining book club and scholastic bowl. That pursuit of knowledge was me. Different and me.

While junior high popularity was alive and kicking in the gym and on the field, youth group became the event of the week for me. I was having fun with my friends, playing crazy games, and soaking up the foundation of my faith. God became the one with the glory and I learned that as a Christian, the world was not always going to like me, but I was supposed to be different. Those lime green stripes were important after all. I grew in my faith and even though I ran with the book club and not the cheerleaders, I still ran. I turned to track because running was something that I did not have to do for others; I could do it for me and it was the strength I had in running that came from God. I ran in relays and worked on a team, but I knew I wasn’t running track just to be popular. I was running track because I loved it, because I had a strength inside.

I also learned that just because I did not date the guys on the basketball team, or because I was not a cheerleader, it didn’t make me any less cool. Popularity and the cool factor was something that went right out the door when people learned I was ‘the Christian.’ I was dubbed the good girl, but that did not define me. My faith did.

When I moved into high school I walked into a Serengeti of popularity and I really felt like my Zebra stripes stuck out. I waited for the lion to attack, but it never really came. I stuck with my faith and my running, my books, and my search for knowledge, and I let those things mold me into the adult I was becoming. Junior year I quite track to find a job and that is a decision that haunts me still today. It was a pivotal moment in my life because quitting was giving up a part of me that mattered. I stayed with book club, joined drama club, chess club, and worked on my academics, but running, though it wasn’t for the status of athlete and popularity, was something I had in my soul. It was somehow connected to my faith and I had lost it by quitting; all because I chose to move into adulthood by working. I had given up a childlike part of me.

Those lime green stripes were probably the best part of my transition from adolescence to adulthood because they gave me a reason to be different. Yes, I still looked like everybody else, but I could be my own person and let my passions create me. I was part of the mold, but I could make it my own and that is what I did. I made a few mistakes, but what girl doesn’t as she transitions? Luckily, when she becomes an adult, it isn’t always too late to find those things she lost. I found running again, not on a team, but in a way that it could still define me. I was a nerdy, faithful, running Zebra with lime green stripes in my adolescent years. I embraced every moment of it. Some days, I find those stripes still staring at the women in the mirror.

An unexpected splash of a fountain

So I'm past due. And no... that's not on having a baby. It's on a tradition that I've only been wanting to take part in since I've set foot upon my college campus. An act that spans many years within my group of friends, many many years to some, and one that has become a part of the Culture of my school. It's one of those rituals that if you're anywhere on campus soaking wet, everyone knows you been "through the fountain."
Friday night was a night spent enjoying the company of friends and fiddling my wits in the game of chess. Not to mention the all out rowdiness of Apples to Apples Bible Edition. Yes folks, the Fiery Furnace can be enjoyable. Needless to say, the thunderstorms of the evening added a certain ambiance to the atmosphere. After so many rounds of games, one where camels became delicious and plagues of frogs, well... silky, our brains started sloshing together adjectives and piling them with any noun that was available. A few of us filtered off to enjoy the rain.
I had been sitting there for what seemed like hours talking about life and all the upsets I was facing, droning on and on trying to figure out a way to get past them when I realized I was trying to do things on my own. I wasn't enjoying the silhouetted drops of rain. I started thinking back to my childhood and how at any given moment I would've busted down the doors to jump in a puddle or splash in the mud. At what point in life do we forget that? When does the rest of the world and our own minds become so loud that raindrops become silent and we can no longer hear the call of the puddles? That thought hit me at about the same time the constant drops turned to a downpour and I pulled off my shoes, let go of my annoying thoughts, and danced in the rain. From the moment the first drop hit to the time I was completely soaked (about thirty seconds) my thoughts, my upsets, my worries, were gone. By dancing in the rain I had let go of myself and let the rain wash over me. I yelled at God asking him what he was trying to tell me; He answered with another downpour. But with that downpour I understood peace. I understood that He will cover me when I ask, even if it is in the rain. I felt a tug to splash a little bit more, to find a little more, and so I wandered across campus to the fountain. It'd been two years and I still hadn't been in. I traipsed down there with my friends and like a bunch of silly little five year olds, we ran in and around that fountain splashing each other and washing away adulthood.
I still wonder when it is exactly that we lose the call of the rain, but I learned Friday night that it's something you can get back. You don't have to ignore that childlike heart that yearns, that begs you to dance in the rain sometimes. When I was kid, dancing in the rain, splashing in the flooded yard was my favorite activity. Why would I ever want to lose that?
Sometimes it's the rumble of thunder, the flashbulb of lightening, the tug of a friend, or the call of your heart that tells you to let go and do something. We shouldn't ignore those moments because sometimes, just always, those are the moments that flip a switch and change your life. It's not always controlled us forgetting how to dance in the rain... but it is our choice to learn how to again.

Rain Dance
Three years old
and it was one of those rain filled summer evenings.
Dark, damp, and cool was the night,
but the perfect summer rain was ever present.
The intense drops captured my eyes through the window
and I just wanted to play.


The absence of the rolling thunder
and the flashing lightening
made my fears diminish.
I was not scared of the rain-shower anymore.

It was Daddy's idea,
which I quickly agreed too.
We put on our tank tops
and bright floral shorts
and we were off.

Out to the backyard we ran.
With our arms outstretched and our mouth open wide.
We gladly welcomed the rain and let the water soak in.

Flash! went the camera
and the moment was captured forever.
I screamed like there was no tomorrow
afraid that the lightening had decided to show up.

But it was only the flashbulb,
paralyzing us in that moment forever.
It was a dance in the rain
and Dad was being a kid, just like me.

Peace

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.
Romans 5:1-2

So, I was worried tonight until I came across this verse. It's amazing how so few words can carry so much, and can take so much of my heart when I need them too.
As most know, there's a certain military man in my life stationed in Iraq. And it worries the crap out of me. But I'm prouder then I can ever say of him being over there, sacrificing and serving. That means the world to me as an American, and as his girlfriend. I was reading the news tonight and came across an article about 5 U.S. Service men going down in a helicopter near the base that he's at. It's worried me beyond end. And I don't know how to deal with that worry sometimes because my overactive imagination gets carried away. It's hard feeling so connected to a person who is 20 million miles and wanting nothing more then to hear his voice even though I can't.
But I know that God closes that distance. I look at this verse and I say to myself, no matter what has happened, whether I hear from him tonight or tomorrow or a week down the road, I can rejoice in the hope of God because he closes the distance between us. He has given me a peace in my heart to know that no amount of time, distance, or worry can tear me from my faith nor from my love. God has become my peace through a strength I've only found in being far away. There's a beautiful song by Mercy Me out right now "Bring the Rain" that completely and utterly captures this feeling:

I can count a million times
People asking me how I
Can praise You with all that I've gone through
The question just amazes me
Can circumstances possibly
Change who I forever am in You
Maybe since my life was changed
Long before these rainy days
It's never really ever crossed my mind
To turn my back on you, oh Lord
My only shelter from the storm
But instead I draw closer through these times

So I pray Bring me joy, bring me peace Bring the chance to be free Bring me anything that brings You glory And I know there'll be days When this life brings me pain But if that's what it takes to praise You Jesus, bring the rain

I am Yours regardless of
The dark clouds that may loom above
Because You are much greater than my pain
You who made a way for me
By suffering Your destiny
So tell me what's a little rain

Holy, holy, holy Is the Lord God Almighty

So many times my friends, my family, they have asked me how do I deal with the distance and how I deal with this deployment and the only answer is God. There are dark clouds that loom above daily. There is worry, there is hurt, there is hating at being so far apart. At knowing he is in a dangerous place every moment. But those situations don't change the fact that I can still praise. If it's rain that causes my praise then I welcome it. I will dance in the drops if it means peace.
And it does. That is the beautiful thing. God gives me peace in the love that I have. Each day I could worry more and more at each breaking news story but instead, I know that I can stand in Him until my own hero returns. That each drop brought to me only makes me stronger, only makes my love grow. And that's how it's been these past six months. Finding peace in the love that I have inside of me. Knowing that love is stronger then anything on this earth and anything beyond it. Love for my God. Love becomes the peace I have inside of me because love is my strength. And nothing, not even a breaking news story can make that stumble.

Remembering the last....

Tonight marks my last night in the sunshine state. Hard to believe a wonderful summer is over and a new semester of school is marked. I have enjoyed every bit though. It's a wonderful feeling to grow up. Even if I wish the Peter Pan syndrome upon myself, I do enjoy growing up. It just means I'll always only be a kid at heart.

Here's to my road trip tomorrow and all the moments ahead. For now, all I hold is memories and I'm quite ready to create more.
Seize the Day.

History being made... and I was a part of it

Tonight I witnessed history.
It was the 150th NASA space mission and the first liftoff for Space Shuttle Endeavor in five years. I happened to be 14 miles away watching with my very own eyes.
I guess this happens to be one of the pluses of living in Florida for the summer. I didn't even realize the space shuttle was launching until yesterday when my Mother called me and mentioned the fact. (Which is weird that I didn't know because I'm always up to date and usually don't miss something big like this.) My Father had seen it on t.v. and suggested we go during Mom's trip down here. Now my Mother was all game. She hasn't missed one shuttle mission in her life, and she has been through the celebrations and tragedies of each mission; from Discovery, to Challenger, to Columbia, to Endeavor. Tonight was not only history for America, but one of those dreams of life come true for my mom. It was so cool to be a part of it.
I myself have always wanted to see a shuttle launch live too. Space, and it's vastness amaze me. It reminds me how big and powerful our creator is. I've always been fascinated by space and even in fourth grade I was able and lucky enough to do a huge study unit on space. I won't go into details but it did involve my own space mission with classes mates to the Moon and Mars. Let's just say, you can make one really cool space helmet with a milk jug and orange cellophane. I won't mention the space walk. Ok, so it was more like rolling around on the gym floor in front of our parents and classmates but I was in fourth grade and space was cool. I'm a nerd ok. I even wanted to go to space camp after that study.
Well, I won't lie, I still do. I thought about being an astronaut for a long time, and the thought made it's way back into my mind tonight. Sure, it'd take about fifteen more years of school and training, but space?? Every part of the training would be worth it. I decided to look up qualifications tonight and my dream was shattered. (Besides the fact that I'd need years of studying science and math.. .which I hate.) I kind of shrugged that off thinking I could push my way through it anyway. As long as I got to see stars. But, go figure there would be a height requirement of 64 inches, one I can't meet. I suppose that is God's way of telling me I can dream, I can enjoy and pursue life, but being an astronaut was never part of my own created plan. He has those certain plans and passions set apart for each of us. And each one is different. My hat is off to those that dream and conquer though. Like Barbara Morgan. What an amazing character. To pursue the dream Christa McAullife had and to be the first teacher in space. Those are the people who will be remembered. They and their dreams are the ones I will never forget. They are the ones that give us tiny nerds hope for our own lives.
I guess sometimes we all want to be remembered. It's part of our human wiring, and though I'll never be an astronaut and I may never be remembered for something grand myself, I remember that everything I still do counts for my future Kingdom. The astronaut inside me may never grow (no pun intended) but the Christian with her own dreams will, and great things like history keep me going for my own mission in life. And that one, is to simply live faithfully. All 61 3/4 inches of me.

Tour de Pain

HALLELUJAH!!!!
I finished!!! I finished!!!



I'm in serious pain right now, but I finished the Tour de Pain....3 races, 24 hours. It was AMAZING!!! (And I got a cool medal.)
I think it even hurts to type right now though. I can't believe I did it. We did it really. There were a few times when I had no strength so I just started praying. God's a runner. I'm telling you, it's biblical this running thing is. You just wait.

But for now, some rest.

ABOVE: 2nd race - 5k run at 7:30 in the morning on Saturday

BELOW: LEFT- 1st race - 4 mile beach run at 7:00 Friday night, RIGHT - 1 mile downtown run 7:00 Saturday night

A run, a race, and a footstep

Running. I guess that's my thing. Or, at least one of them. This is a snapshot of my life.
As far as I know I've always been a runner. Since I was a little twerp always running around the yard or in the store away from my parents. You'd catch me running from my brother in the house growing up through the years, and low and behold as a tiny blonde two year old running, tripping, and breaking my arm. (Not only am I a runner since birth, but a klutz as well.)

Junior high was really when I got my start in running. It was a new era for me and I wanted to try out everything. I started track with a little apprehension because honestly, who enjoys running? At least that was the thought in my head. But I tried it out anyway, and running turned out to be something I was good at. I was fast, I enjoyed it, and it was something in which I only depended on myself, my strength, and how hard I could push myself. There was one other fuel though, and that was my God. I remember race days like they were yesterday. The feel of crawling into the blocks, the anticipation in my muscles, the sound of the gun, and the feel of the wind as I pushed. I also remember that before every race, rather it was a lone one or a relay where I had teammates, I said a little prayer. It was never for a win (ok... so in my adolescent that's probably a lie. I'm sure I prayed for a win one, two, maybe a few times.) For the most part though, it was that I could make it. That I could run with the wind (or against it) and cross that finish line. I wanted to finish so bad. Yes, before the other girls would have been wonderful, but it was the thrill of knowing I, me, I could cross that finish line because of the strength inside of me. That strength was such an amazing feeling because I never threw it up after the race. Maybe felt a little dizzy and definitely felt like throwing up, but it never came. Because I held it all inside. That feeling was my power, my push, my strength to run. And it was exhilarating.
I quit track my junior year of high school for a job. I think it was probably the single most stupid mistake I've ever made. I'm not saying I would've gone on to be a star or a college athlete (though I would've loved too) but I just quite running. I racked up the medals and ribbons (most just participant ones) in the years prior and they were wonderful feelings of finishing, but somehow I let that feeling, that joy of running be overpowered by the world. The need for a job, for finances instead of letting my God push me in something that I could use to honor him. Sure, life went on and God shined in other areas, but I sometimes wondered just what could've happened had I not chosen to quit. I'm not a quitter and save for this one time, I won't ever do it again.
I decided to fix that problem. Resolve my quitting. Just this past year I finally picked up running again. Three and half years (never too late) and the feeling is back. One of my goals in life is to run a marathon and I figure I had to start somewhere so why not a half? I signed up with a bunch of friends and starting pushing myself again. Something had sparked in me and I found running once more. It was like, all along it had never left my soul because I would occasionally go out and run, or find a treadmill, but it was never the same. There was something deeper in side of me. Whispering, telling me to just go, just feel the wind, but I think I was just a little scared to pick it up. Tostart completely over. I knew that as a growing women I had lost my speed, but eventually it wasn't about that anymore. I never thought in my life I could run distance, heck, I hated, hated the mile warm-up before practice!. but I decided, I heard that that was what I was supposed to go for. I was supposed to go for the distance. Just running. Here I was training for 13.1 miles.
Through the strength of God I found those miles and completed my first half-marathon last May. It was an amazing 2 hours and 19 minutes. And the moment I crossed the finish line, well, let's just say it made up for the single most stupid mistake I ever made. It was as if God was speaking to me again saying, "Caitlin running is in your soul because I placed it there. Running parallels your life and if you keep running, keep 'going the distance' (like Rocky!) I'll bless you. It's hard to explain sometimes, and even now as I write, I can't fully place it but running is just one of those things where I know God exists. He is the strong tower of my legs, the breath of my lungs, the endurance of a mile, the strength in which I take a step, and the finish line to my race. He carries me when I run. He is the runner inside of me. And I know that anytime I am out there on the pavement, the sand, the trail, in the sun or rain, he is right beside me and in me running that same race. And that's why I run now; why I have the racing bug. Be it a simple 5K, or a bridge run, or even the Tour de Pain (3 races, 24 hours) that I'm doing on a whim tomorrow, I still race. It isn't about the free t-shirt, or the medals any more (though those are very nice reminders of what I finished) it's about the perseverance and it's about winning. I'm sure if I pushed my self harder in my training I could top out, place a few times but to me, running is about running. It's about just taking the step.
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."
-Hebrews 12:1-3

And I challenge anyone who says they can't run, to take a step with me. Because taking a step with me is being carried by God.

When I qualify and finish the Boston Marathon in my life, I'm tattooing this verse id on my calf.

Sanctity in Refuge

I sit here in the rain tonight wondering why I have let my writing nonchalantly disappear piece by piece this summer. It's 1 August 2007, hard to believe the day was today and I'm only a few short steps away to starting the next half of my college life, and my writing, as well the adventure I had in pursuit this summer, well, it falls under the category of 'empty.'
For most who read this, they'll probably be the avid readers of some of the writing I've done (I'm no author yet... just a measly, starving, simple writer) and you'll understand that this whole blog thing is new to me. I've never been an avid diary writer or journal keeper, but I do have a certain lime green notebook that I have somehow managed to keep a hold of the past six months and occasionally jot an idea down in, even a poem or two, and low and behold, possibly the start to a beautiful novel. Needless, I think this beautiful blog thing might just be the refuge I am looking for. I'm not sure what words will end up pouring out of my fingertips into the bright abyss of my computer screen, but I feel already, that they will.
As I've said, I'm no author, but I write big. I write that my words will touch the soul of just one person; a deep enough touch that I can keep writing because my beautiful Creator chooses to speak through me. It's as a poet speaks through words that I long to speak beauty, hope, peace, faith, and love. And in these things may we all find sanctity.
I heard today on a radio spot something about joyful hope and it spurred a movement in me. I've talked with several friends about this before, and listened to many sermons on the hope we are to have in our creator. But how many times is the word joyful put in front of it? Life, like my writing and adventure, sometimes feels like the needle is always pointing to empty; but how many times have you run out of gas (without realizing it) and just laughed at yourself for forgetting to fill up? (I almost did today.) It's in that laughter where we find joy... and that joy should be placed above all us. God tells us that no matter the situation or whether life feels like it's on pause, or pointing to empty, that he has our back. He's the one giving us hope and a future. (Jer. 29:11) So you see, we have the hope placed before us and all we have to do is joyfully live for it. A joyful hope. Can you imagine a world full of that? What if one person lived everything in joyful hope, even when she stepped out of bed in the morning with a massive migraine and a full plate, she just smiled and said, today is a day of joyful hope? She would find sanctity. She would find refuge in the God who would guide her. She would be the white steel chair, firmly, yet beautifully placed on the sands of the sea. And her joyful hope would spread to another, and maybe another, and maybe, just maybe across that sea to another place and time. If we have joyful hope, we hold the sea in our hand. And if we hold the sea in our hand... then the waves will always be constant. Our God is big like that. And beautiful.

I'm sure my writing won't always be deep and poetic, and ambiguous like this... and I'm sure as the days go by I'll even write about my life and who I am. But for now, I write the words that flow.

To my God and to my love....
Always