Here we go again...

Yep. It's true. If anyone was remotely interested to go back and read my blog from beginning to end, you would see a definate pattern of beginnings and ends. I realize that is a profound statement (said very sarcastically), but still...an end is coming again, and a new beginning is forming on the horizon. My only question is will it bring storms or a sunrise? Only time will tell.

Don't you hate it when you stick your foot in your mouth. Well, I gagged myself on my entire leg tonight. I'm still a little sick from it.

I also just want to throw out there that I love, love, LOVE all my friends. Old AND new. I am one lucky lady.

Alright, enough for tonight. Peace, love and everything in between.

Text Twister

I hate text twister. (an internet word game). I despise it. It makes me feel incredibly dumb. You'd think I'd be good with words, as much as I talk and read, however - not so much. Clearly my brain is stunted in this area. Whatever.

The end of a season...

It seems as if my excruciatingly long season of ‘me’ is ending. It kind of feels as if I have been living in Narnia (pre-Aslan), where it has been endlessly winter. I’m not whining, I have had joy and delight along the way, yet the snow still fell. Everything I tried to clutch to myself, was as useless as trying to get a good grip on sand. Pointless. I am anxious to have my eyes catch fire. I am ready for what’s next. I am anxious to stand up instead of drowning in a damn puddle of my self-involved tears.

I fear expectations however. Hope usually gets buried under the burden of our unmet expectations (realistic as they may be). Believing in God’s plan for my life is something that I have not been intimate with for too long to remember the familiarity. I haven’t felt the storm and fierceness of Him. I have not felt the steady weight of his hand since my dreams and heart were shattered many moons ago. I’ve been a coward. I have hidden in the various caves of my choices born of fear and sheer abandon of what I love. I have closed my eyes, pretending he can’t see me. Times up.

It’s strange. I want to be a gypsy with a home to come back to. I want to never look behind me and not remember this journey. I also don’t want that view to make me crawl instead of run. I want to be brave, and scandalous, and vulnerable.

Spring is coming…