7 Quick Takes [vol. 11]

I'm on a roll here with the blogging thing. Three times in one week. (Yes, the quote on Wednesday counts!) Better keep rolling with my quick takes before I lose motivation...because it's a Friday night and I'm ready to party ready for bed!

--1--

 

I think my beta fish Jonah is dying. Now this may seem insignificant to most of you, but this little guy has a special place in my heart. He makes my heart happy and he was my first pet here in the apartment. I've never had a fish live this long--2.5 years--and you get kinda attached. I'm glad my roommate is home for the weekend, because I don't think I'll be able to...well...you know...send him to his watery grave. Would it be inappropriate to bury a fish in the garden or do you think his fishy-soul would be happier in water?

 

--2--

 

Flowers are abounding in our apartment right now. I LOVE it. Flowers are one of my most favorite things on earth. One giant bouquet is from a gentleman who came to the pregnancy center this week and gave us plants and flowers from his mother-in-law's funeral. He supported what we do and wanted to share those with us. How sweet is that? The second vase holds a lush bunch of pink peonies that my mom picked from her neighbors' (with permission, of course!). She surprised me by bringing them to my cardiology workplace today! Drinking in their beauty tonight...

 

--3--

 

Brogan, our Little Dog, escaped tonight. He slipped out the door when my sister and her kids were leaving this evening. I kid you not-- this dog looks like a mix between a rabbit and a white-tailed deer whenever he escapes (yep, it's not the first time). He skips and bounds and bounces through the yards and field quite merrily. If it wasn't so maddening, it would actually be pretty funny. All is well now. He's safe inside again, crashed on his pillow-bed, dreaming of adventures in the great outdoors.

 

--4--

 

I'm so happy to be home tomorrow. I have loads of things I want to do. The farmer's market, garage sale-ing, shopping, cleaning and organizing, morning Mass, running, breakfast at the coffee shop, bike riding...somehow I'm not sure I'll fit it all in but I love knowing such an empty slate of a day lies before me. My daddy's birthday is tomorrow, so that's one thing written on the slate. Maybe some ice cream cake and a boat ride on the river. Mmm...June is here and summer is not far behind.

 

--5--

 

I shut my thumb in the car door a couple weeks ago. I know. I haven't done that since I was a little kid. But let me tell you, when it happened I really wanted to act like a little kid and scream and cry. Whew. It was painful. Instead I calmly (debatable) asked P. to get the cooler back out of the car so I could promptly stick my hand in the ice (we were camping with my family). I've never broken a bone before...until now. Turns out the tip is fractured. So I've been wearing this nifty splint on my left thumb for the past 10 days (and guess who happens to be left-handed).

 

--6--

 

Uh-oh. Losing motivation. Distracted by a hungry tummy. Thinking of the Pinterest recipe in the freezer ("ice cream" made from blended bananas and cocoa powder.)

 

--7--

 

This one really deserves more than a Quick Take number, however honorable that may be. I'll be sharing more details in the future, because I'm still a bit in awe that the many. crazy. details worked out.

 

I'm going to Haiti in July.

 

And because of the multiple roadblocks that have been cleared by God throughout the past few months...my greatest desire is to completely offer myself and this mission trip to Him.

 

So more on that later.

 

And hey-- you dear, beautiful, heart-warming friends. Thanks for your comments and your bloggie-world friendship. I enjoy your own blog posts, your comment-love on mine, your support that transcends internet connections, and even you readers who remain silent but present. Thank you.

 

Have a beautiful weekend.

Wisdom for Wednesdays

"Our willingness to own and engage with our vulnerability determines the depth of our courage and the clarity of our purpose; the level to which we protect ourselves from being vulnerable is a measure of our fear and disconnection."

~Brene Brown, Daring Greatly

Mess

There are dishes in my sink, clothes on my floor, papers on my desk.

But I want to write. I need to write. Is that okay?

I'm thinking of a million things I should be doing instead. Yet whenever I start working on the list, I only get through 32 of those million things instead of the whole list and then I never get to write.

So tonight I left it all and escaped to the outdoors. I'm writing before the dirty dishes and the piles of clothes and the paper messes.

I hear the nagging voice of perfectionism inside me but I choose to ignore it tonight. I never satisfy it anyway.

I've been in a childish mood today. Can you tell? I'd love to blame it on spiritual warfare and a busy schedule and people who rub me the wrong way...but you know...I really think it's just me. In the end, it's where I'm choosing to focus my thoughts (Philippians 4:8). And I'm not gonna lie, you guys. I'm choosing to be childish. With eyes narrowed and lips pouting, I want to whine about an imperfect life-- of busyness and a never-ending schedule, about juggling two jobs and burnout from ministering to pregnancy test clients, about my own body that doesn't work right with P.C.O.S.--plus that pesky fractured thumb, about a messy house, about relationship tensions and comparing myself to others who have five kids by my age. (Did you notice I'm getting my whine out anyway? Let's have some cheese and cheers, shall we??)

But really. I pause. I breathe deep. I let the breeze tickle my face. I hear that undauntedly cheerful bird chirping. I feel Brogan's fur against my leg as he curls up next to me. I think about a family who loves me. A good man who puts up with my moodiness lately. Of girlfriends who speak truth to me when others pull me down.

I breathe out.

I still feel the weight of my imperfection. Some days I'm convinced that life, that grace, that God has taught me to surrender, to let go of control and perfectionism. At best, I'm humbly thankful and at worst I'm subtly proud of it.

Then I enter a new season with new challenges. With new opportunities to let go, to trust more fully, to surrender more gracefully.

And these hands just grip so tightly.

I grasp for a semblance of control when all spins wildly about me. I can't do it all. So why does that make me feel like a failure?

When will I learn to step back and look at things in the light of Christ, in the light of eternity?

Can I come to Him with hands full of this stuff? Can I drag stuff with me if I admit I need His help in letting go?

Will He transform me from childish...to childlike?