say goodbye

one final to go
gotta clean the house
get a job
move out

rejoice

19 no longer

My thoughts on turning 20, growing up, moving out of OV, life, etc - in no particular order:

1. my apartment- i will miss intimacy that allows for such irreverence and raw honesty.  

2. i look forward to making theatre.  yes, i will make theatre.  there, i said it.

3. isn't it sad that nothing really changes when you turn 20?  oh well, there's always next year.

4. can 6 women really live together?

5. of course they can.  i hope.

6. and God is still Jehovah Jireh.

7. i really enjoy being the age i am.  really.  i'm glad to be young and i can't wait to be old.

8. chocolate chip pancakes have never tasted as good as they did this morning at 7:42 am.

9. i miss my family.  it's an ache of the heart that feels deep and rich, and it throbs a little when the 5 year old says "i love you" through the phone.

10.  i love saraZ's onion painting in the basement of the library.  i want to buy it from her and put in my house.

11. i am happy.  

12. i am content.

i could use some direction. please.

i'm getting worried. the natural, usual worries that accompany children/young adults/humans of my age. you know, things like "what am i going to do with my life?" it's hard to be peaceful right now, when i don't know which direction this little life should take.

and the frustrating thing is that no one else can answer this for me, and no one really wants to.

provision

... and Jehovah Jireh sometimes acts through roommates who can't finish their peanutbutter (and chocolate!) blenders.  funny how i notice it most when the fridge is bare.

there is something special about this adventure in simple living, if i can even presume to call it that.  (we spend more money than i want to think about on tuition and housing) yet, this chosen period of thriftiness seems to be curbing some of my materialism, waste (and waist?) and hopefully, fear.  i see the Provider working in little things: clothes from a friend, hotel soap from my traveling father, and the consistent coffee dates that my boyfriend is so sweet to initiate.  And then again, we do have things like Diana's famous Chili Shit (one can of vegetarian chili + all the shit left in the fridge and cupboards = one miraculous meal) and the almost never ending box of pancake mix (which calls for milk and eggs, but tastes fine with just water).  

forgive me for taking this out of context, but if God is for us, who can be against us?

here's to living on less, sharing more and laughing all the while.

3:05 on Wednesday

Grace is sometimes gritty, like the face scrub I keep in the shower.  It rubs and rubs until the bad stuff flakes off, revealing a fresh perspective and another chance to be really beautiful.

And sometimes it's like a Trader Joe's peanut butter cup before dinner: exactly the best kind of sweetness, unexpected and unearned.  Often, though, it's like my 2 hour shift at the switch, long and persistent, a slow dependable benefit.

 

struggling

why it is so difficult for me to make a decision, i have no idea.

just a simple yes or no, red or blue, this or that.  

it's not complicated. 

usually, that is.

i suppose it does depend on the question....

ok, choose.

the growth of self-confidence pt. 1

i am enjoying this small bit of cyberspace. it is like owning my own little closet where i can write on the walls and sing out loud, without worrying if my roommates will laugh at me.
they can sing, you know, with their loud strong voices, as if they were on stage with the lights in their eyes, shooting colors and poetry past their lips. my voice comes out softer, written or spoken, with less abandon and fewer tints and tones.

i'm happy to speak out here... though, between you and i, it is still a little intimidating. sometimes i feel like white rice, or mashed potatoes - accompanying and supporting the women in my life whose lives are blossoming around me.

but i do still like to sing, even if it's just a baby song, or an old hymn i learned back in kindergarten.