V O I C E @dreammmonster - Tumblr Blog

I never knew I spit when I talked until I got married.

The other day, Chris to me while wiping his face:

“Babe, I swear you could spit on a soft “h” sound.”

Things I Saw Thursday

I saw a big guy get out of his car at the gym. He had a bumper sticker that said “I love my Shih tzu.”

I saw an intense conversation transpire completely in sign language in the car behind me in the middle of Nashville traffic. All the hands in the air and none on the wheel.

I saw a semi’s axle break in the middle lane at rush hour.

That’s all for this week’s “Things I Saw Thursday.”

hello summer?

That’s it. I’ve had it. I put my foot down.

Winter has got to go.

T minus __________ days till I see the sun. I can’t remember the last time I caught a glimpse. Was it during the eclipse? Was that when I was reminded of that giant golden globe that’s supposed to be hanging in the blue sky beyond?

I caught a cold twice between November and December. It is now the first week of February and I received a sweet little visitor called Influenza. But not just any strain, mind you. This week I got the Swine Flu. Now isn’t that about the last thing you ever want to yell out over your balcony. My Google history is littered with articles like “23 ways to boost your immune system,” and “is the swine flu the black plague?”

There is honestly nothing worse than being sick and walking out into freezing weather. I love when it snows, but we don’t get much snow in Tennessee. It’s ice and clouds here. Add in the occasional 60 degree day that makes you think it might be Spring... followed by 19 degrees of bitter rain in order to remind you that you were an idiot for thinking that could occur in the beginning of February.

I was wondering to myself why winter has to be so void of sunshine. Why couldn’t God just make it cold AND sunny? I mean this girl has got to get some Vitamin D in her life. The next time the sun shines, I’m tempted to strip down to my skibbies and lie atop my car roof (we live in an apartment and have no yard). As of now, my skin is officially a translucent shade I believe I’ve only seen donned by chameleons on Planet Earth. I don’t want to hug a salt lamp, I don’t want to stare into a UV bulb, I just want the real sun. Thankyouisthattoomuchtoask?

I was born with a traveler’s soul

From pioneers to pirates

My whimsies made for magic

Adventure my goal

The passion to discover

Curiosity to understand

Has only strengthened with each foreign land

I was born with a travelers heart

A will unwilling to rest

Unsatisfied

With the simple American conquest

Theres a thing that happens

On top of a mountain

In the middle of the woods

Or at the receiving end of a stranger’s smile

The momentary grasp of the unknown

Willing to be known for awhile.

I was born with a travelers soul

A heart that was all cowboys and Indians

A holstered love I kept hidden

My aim a bit broken

By past duels gone awry

My faith in myself beginning to die

I wasn’t so quick to shoot anymore

My heart locked behind hidden doors

Little Annie Oakley

Sure Shot’s reputation gave up the fight

Dreaming of more night after night

I was ready to leave this dusty city

I had a traveler’s soul that learned how to run

Until I met you

And found that you were all cowboys and Indians too

But your heart was quicker to the draw than mine

You knew what you wanted and your shot was blind

BAM.

Straight to my heart

Too quick to react

My cowgirl shot couldn’t shoot back

So I ran

Or tried to

Like an old dusty Western movie

You on my tail right behind

Once again I was on the move

Trying to nurse my leaking wound.

But the funny thing is it was never a wound at all

Your one shot

Hit me dead in the heart

And that shock gave it a sudden jump start

I couldn’t explain it but my fading old soul

Went from shreds and tatters to somehow made whole

I came alive once more

And found that you were the adventure

That I’ve been looking for.

Because I was born for it.

To be in your arms.

Your lips to my forehead and my pounding heart

The temptation to go, but I want to stay

For a moment the chaos of life slips away

Your heart beats against your chest

Wild horses rounding a grassy crest

You’re the mainstay, you’re the mast

You’re strength is the constant when others won’t last

In your eyes I see the mountains

The valleys

The places I’ve longed to go

To sea

To land.

Your words are a compass in my tiny hand

North, South, East, West

Promise you’ll always point North and due

Leading us onward

Hand in hand

Just me being me and you being you

Well this is awkward, we seem to be wearing the same thing.

This, though it was such a small thing, was one of the highlights of my day. That I matched the medicine ball. I can’t help it, it gave me joy.

And that’s where I’m at. Finding joy in the very very small things. I was trying to articulate this to my sister yesterday on the phone. I was explaining that while I’m still job hunting and Chris is on the road Mon, Tues, and Wed., and we still don’t have friends in the area, I work really hard at keeping my joy meter at top notch. As high as I can. Because I know myself. I know that if I give any attention to the random negative thoughts that occasionally fly through my mind in a day, I could easily blink and find myself on the couch with an empty bag of Walnut Creek Cheese, Buffalo flavored chips by my side, grease marks on my ratty t-shirt, and the remote lost in the couch cushions because #netflixautoplay. I know you know. So knowing where I COULD end up has helped me put in place some positive reinforcements that keep me in line. I never thought of myself as disciplined, but I think I’ve come to know the value of it through times like this.

Monday mornings have usually been the most difficult so far just because those are the mornings Chris leaves for his three-day stint on the road. It’s also the end of an amazing weekend together either hiking or discovering new places around town. You can usually find me clinging to his ankle like a little girl while he tries to walk out the door. And then I’ll sulk into my coffee, talk to God, and by midmorning I’m ok again. The rest of my days are filled with recipe hunting, coupon clipping, apartment organizing and dreaming. I actually do a lot of dreaming. I said I ACTUALLY DO A LOT OF DREAMING. This. This brings me to my next point.

I think I’m finding myself again. I didn’t even know I lost anything but somewhere between the sheer insanity of planning my own wedding, transitioning into marriage, packing up an entire house, saying 234,325 emotional goodbyes to friends and family, living in limbo for an entire month while we waited for our apartment to open up and Chris’ job to start, and then moving into a third story apartment with all the heavy objects and few helpers, and then trying to fit an entire house-worth of things into said apartment in a city we weren’t familiar with— I misplaced something really important.

If you would have asked me to write a creative sentence in April, I probably would have stared at a paper in trance-like concentration when in reality there was nothing going on in my brain. No creative synapses were firing. I felt like a sponge that had been squeezed dry of any form of inspiration. I suppose all my creative efforts were being poured into a beautiful wedding— which turned out to be one of the best days I’ve ever had, by the way.

So this snapshot of my life currently is a blessing. It really is. I know that eventually it will come to an end, but I cherish it for what it is. It’s a lot of silence. It’s a lot of alone time. Which sometimes causes me to talk to myself (please tell me I’m not crazy). It’s listening to a ton of podcasts and gobbling up books like I haven’t since before I became an English major. It’s pulling out my watercolors for the first time in, um years, and painting a pumpkin to celebrate a new season. It’s taking my good old sweet time shopping for groceries because I literally have nowhere to be. It’s cooking a HOME MADE MEAL (I can’t believe it) for my husband’s return and watching his face as he walks through the door after being gone for three days. It’s serving him in ways I wasn’t able to through the craziness of transition, and finding that I’m actually not as awful at “wifing” as I thought. And then it’s just being thankful for human connection. Gaining joy in the few words shared with the sweet lady at the produce market. And finally, seeing the little things in life that make me so happy. Like my Kombucha brew that looks like a little shepherd. Or that my purple pants are the exact hue as the medicine ball I’m manhandling at the gym. And looking at memes and laughing all by myself (guys, seriously I’m not crazy). And noticing the few trees that are already starting to turn color. And finally— I think I’m writing again.

I’m taking this transition for what it is. It’s difficult not having a job which has us living on one salary. We do a lot of free activities on the weekends. We don’t have many friends in the area. We aren’t connected to a church. Our apartment is small. But I embrace it. God gave me this time. He is speaking to me. He’s breathing life into the areas of my heart I thought might never be revived.

I have more to write about transition. I might actually miraculously write again, depending on whether the writing angel visits me. But for now, I’ll leave you with this little quote I saw the other day.

“A change is as good as a rest.” -Winston Churchill

Be inspired. Don’t fear change, embrace it. Perhaps it’s exactly what you need and you didn’t even know it.

Resting in the Unrest

The past few weeks I've been trying to grapple with my feelings. Articulating those feelings has been an even greater challenge. With so many voices shouting in unrest, judgement, and anger, I struggle with the likelihood of my little voice's whisper finding a place to land in the midst of all the madness. After taking a short glance at what all my friends had to say on social media this morning, I closed the app and decided I'd give words a try. In the midst of all the unrest, I've hungered for some sound advice. Some sort of direction. Some words of wisdom. And yet everywhere I look, I find voices that fill me with an unsettled feeling. The voices I hear are broken. I have a heart for the broken, and I certainly have a heart for my country. But unfortunately, I have a hard time seeking direction from splintered voices. I've tried to put my finger on what it is about these voices that leave me feeling so... uneasy. I've come to the conclusion that most of the voices I've been hearing from friends, friends of friends and even strong leaders are generally rooted in a spirit of either judgment, hurt, brokenness, or fear. I've decided that these are voices that I'd rather not have influence my stances and opinions on life. As I was thinking this morning, I was directed to a voice that was not laced with any of these threads. Unrest and uprising was rampant throughout Israel during the time of Jesus. Due to the Roman rule, there were many sects who responded in varying ways, some even turning to violence. In fact, Jesus had some zealots running with him as he traveled and ministered (Simon the zealot is one). But what I've often wondered is why so many people were drawn to Jesus as he taught. The Bible says that he spoke with such authority that people were in awe, and it's taken until now for me to actually put my finger on it. Many of his comrades expected Jesus to jump on their bandwagon. To join with their voices protesting the injustice in their land. And yet Jesus' voice was different than all the rest. I think that's why people stopped and listened. His voice wasn't loud, it wasn't rude or demeaning. The people were hearing something different. Jesus actually didn't address a lot about the government, although he certainly had a platform to. When he did, he simply encouraged the people to fulfill their civil duties despite the injustice. "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's. What I see when I look at the life of Jesus is that he used his voice instead to bring attention to something he must have thought more important. The hearts of people. His challenge was, yes yes, the government isn't perfect, but what about your heart? Are you loving the people around you right now of are you too involved with your campaign to see them? In this world of chaos, I want to subject myself to a voice that I sense is grounded in who they are. Calm. Full of faith and hope. Not riddled with fear, judgment, anger, brokenness, or offense. When I find a leader who is all of these, that's when I'll stop and listen. Until then, I shut down all the apps, avoid all of the comments, and I focus on the people in my life right now as I go to work, as I come home to family. I choose to minister to them, encourage those who I see hurting. And I get on my knees to pray for the healing of our land, trusting the One who can actually make a difference.

Let me into the warmth of your laugh. Tights and knee socks snugly tucked into boots. The warmth you bring reminds my heart of what it was missing.

They said it was frozen, they said tales were told around the fire. They didn’t know it was just a season. A cold snap. That seasons change, and you carried the warmth my soul needed.

You are the place where I belong. Safety.

A request. Let me into the dusty rooms that few have been, the nooks and crannies of your heart, the secret things. We’ll wipe away the cobwebs one by one and whispering, discover that there really was nothing to fear. Baby let me in. They say, “the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.” Who knew that those places were in the glaciers of my heart.

Back from CA.

I’ve been thinking a lot these past few days turned into weeks turned into months. I’ve been thinking a lot this past while.

I was thinking about what 2016 looked like from the eyes of a 29-year-old on New Years Eve last year. I was thinking about all the things I wanted to accomplish throughout the year. All the hopes I had. Goals.

I really wanted to go to California. Everyone loves California. My friends are moving to California. I just really wanted to go to California.

I think about this last year. I didn’t go to California.

In fact, I probably did the least amount of traveling I’ve done in years.

But I started thinking about this past year and about what I HAVE done. I didn’t go to California, but I did make my first wedding video for some friends. I didn’t make it to the West Coast at all actually, but I started taking piano lessons so I could pursue music. I didn’t even make it to half way out there this year, but I did find myself a man (he actually found me). And he’s a such a good one. I actually probably didn’t end up traveling much out of the state because I found that there’s just as much adventure in those eyes of his. I learned how to open my heart up and actually love. Friendships grew deeper, and I found new people with similar passions. I created my first wedding invitation. I started taking line dancing classes. I got a new old car (it’s new to me).

And I get to watch my sister marry the love of her life in a week.

I may not have gone many places this year, but the things that I learned have superseded my expectations.

And it’s becoming clear. That’s California to me.

carmensmonsters-deactivated2015

Life in an Anecdote

When going to the gym the other day, I slowed to a stop at the gate. Thinking I was smart, I wedged my parking pass inside the window of my driver’s side door so I wouldn’t have to talk to the gatekeeper. He could SEE my pass and let me through more quickly. I saw the man mouth something. I rolled down my window. My pass slipped into the depths of my car door, never to see the light of day again.

Life in an Anecdote

I’m thinking of starting a series called “Life in an Anecdote,” where I describe the irony of my life in simple little word pictures or stories. For examples, see below:

Today I dropped a coffee bean on a dark cement floor. Immediately hunching over, I combed the floor with my eyes to see where it landed. Not spotting the little fellow, I stood up and stepped aside to reach for something on the counter, crushing said bean into a million little bits.

Yesterday I dripped coffee onto the white stripe of my black and white striped dress. Attempting to wash the yellow out, I massaged a dot of Dawn and a drip of water into the spot. Elementary art class would tell you that blue and yellow make green. Elementary art class haunted me for the rest of the day.

Lone Star

The other night Chris, Jeremy and I decided to play the 50 State game. The one where you sit down and write every state from memory. I went into the game a bit too confidently, having played before. I thought that surely I’d get it this time. Especially since I’m thirty. Because once you’re thirty, you know a lot of random facts.

However, upon breaching number fourty-four, I began to slow. It donned on me that the chances of attaining all fifty states was looking bleak at best. I knew that one of the keys to the game was getting all of those little New England states. I knew that since I’m such a visual person, it worked best for me to picture myself driving across the country. In my head I kept visualizing myself in my little Corolla, heading through the western states. “Colorado, Nevada, Utah…” I kept going over and over them in my mind. Still, I had this odd feeling I was missing one of the more obvious ones.

Upon waving my white flag of surrender and with only fourty-four states on my sheet, we began to tick them off one by one. It was when Jeremy said, “Texas,” that a groan escaped my lips. Texas? Texas?! How on earth can you miss the most “assuming” state in the country? I could understand Idaho. Or Wyoming. Or even Alaska, because who hasn’t forgotten Alaska? But everyone gets Texas. It was a “big” mistake. The kind where your friends bring it up in passing ten years later. “Ya we played that one time and she’s the girl who forgot Texas…”

Look, Texas, maybe not everything is about you, ok?

I was just thinking about it and laughing at myself today while this little thought kept tickling the back of my brain. It was more of a feeling than a thought that’s actually been floating around my head for the past few months, but whenever I try to put it into words I just can’t seem to give it due justice. Then the whole thing with Texas happened and I realized that maybe that experience depicted my feelings more poigniantly than anothing else I’ve tried.

Basically, I’ve just been wondering if I’ve been missing something big. Something obvious in my life. What I mean by this is that it’s so easy for us humans to get wrapped up in the little things- the things that really don’t matter.

We tend to waste emotions on things like offenses, money, or positions. I’ve noticed myself getting impatient with people, when in the past I would have had grace. I’ve found that a majority of my thoughts center around me. What would make me happy? What don’t I have that I need? My lack consumes my mind more than thankfulness.

I’m thinking of experiences from the last few months where I’ve been so caught up in purchases, new clothes, and my own life that I think I’ve somehow become numb to the compassion that once stirred in my heart. And while it’s ok to work on myself, I’ve slowly begun to forget what’s actually important. I’ve somehow forgotten about Texas.

I think that the only way that I can get back to that place of having a soft heart is repentance. Scripture says that God’s heart is with those who are broken, and repentance is a form of brokenness before the Lord. I want to live my life encountering people with “God goggles.”

Basically, I just really want to remember Texas.

*Misses green light because of smiling at the succulents in the passenger’s seat.

Hey. At least I wasn’t texting.

#everyday

A little exerpt of a speech I gave at my dear friend’s wedding. Life can be the best teacher.

“I used to think that love was kind of like warmish water after someone peed in the pool. Initially, you find it completely disgusting but secretely think if feels kind of good. I used to think love was lightning bolts, tears, and larger than life moments. I thought it was all about “finding the one” and “because two people fell in love.” What I’m finding is something far more profound. Love reaches far deeper than all of those things. It doesn’t find you. You choose it. You grab hold of it. Love begins at your core. It stretches into the inner depths of who you are and draws you out. Love is a thing that beckons you to bring yourself wholly. The best of you. The worst of you. Exposed and yet free to choose. To arrive with all of who you are and to meet another with all of who he is. With no fear. Love can feel frightening. Like pushing off shore in a little john boat, unable to predict the trends of the weather. You know it’s a commitment you made and you’ve set your sights to never look back. Love doesn’t always feel safe but where true love is, there is no fear. Love isn’t angelic singing and horse whinnies. It’s a song that you can’t seem to get out of your head. It’s the changing wind on your face. It’s subtle. When cultivated, it grows into a garden that overtakes you. It’s the opposite of instant gratification. It’s selfless and takes time. That’s what love is to me.”

#love

“But will it be difficult,” I asked him.

“Will it be difficult? My dear, I’m afraid you are asking the wrong question.

When has difficulty ever been a factor in any decision you make? You are not a child of the faint of heart but were born with a will and determination as strong as steel.”

“This is the question you must ask, child:

Will it be magic? Will there be moments of laughter and sheer bliss, will there be minutes that cause you to stand still and wonder if this is the closest you may get to heaven, or times when you look into the eyes of love and find that it’s boomeranged and returned stronger than what you had given. Will there be points where you’re afraid to breath because it will remind you that reality is imminent. And when reality does hit hard, which is sure to happen, will there be moments where love trumps it all. Will there be times when a hand in yours speaks more than a word, and a warm body beside you at night will remind you that you don’t have to face it all alone. That there’s another to fight with you. To fight for you. To call things out of you that you didn’t know were even within. Will there be victories amidst the losses? And will you want to have done it all over again when you look back down the road? This is the question, my dear one.

The question is not whether difficulty will come, but whether there will be love and will it remain.”

ovadiah

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