This is the story of a girl with a large heart. She filled her head with dreams of fairytales--knights in shining armor, rugged heroes, ladies of high esteem. A place where anything you dreamed could be attained if you worked hard enough.
She put off one dream (the dream of her heart) to pursue her mind's dream. Instead of being content in her place she went to further her knowledge of the fairytale. The time she spent reading and learning was well spent, but occasionally she would get a glimpse of the other dream. It didn't take much--a weekend or a break from her scholastics spent at home was all she needed to awaken the old dream.
Her arms elbow-deep in hot water, eyes looking out over the harvested fields, she wonders why she ever wanted more. A breeze pushes through the screen of the window as she dries her hands on the white tea-towel and suddenly she's somewhere else.
She's a pioneer out on the frontier, or a simple maid in a medieval town. And she is not alone. Instead of preparing for her brother's birthday, she's baking for a child's name day and a husband that's been working hard under the sun. Whomever she prepares the table for, it matters little. The table is prepared--the food a blessing. And that is enough. God is good.
Where did this hope come from? This is the story of a girl that had clung so desperately to hope that she didn't realize when she had let it slip through her fingers for her eyes were squeezed tight--scared to face the truth. She knew the words--God provides--but somewhere along the way she let them grow hollow. Trudging on, day after day, she forgot to offer thanks for the blessings. And the trials. And the rejections, though three there be.
The radio was turned up, louder than it should have been, and the windows rolled down. A song began to play that she had heard a million times--and she loved it all along. Something was different this time around, and words of one of her professors came echoing back, "Read it again, the words won't have changed. But my, you have." How she'd changed, and she didn't even realize it was happening. The song was poignant. Her finger pushed the back button again and again--letting the lyrics be a heavy hammer through the dimness she had been facing. And tears press against her eyes because it's been so long since she's felt anything.
Daylight proved to chase away the darkness and contentment settled in. Peace came over her mind and settled in her heart. Though the days she will face may be difficult, she will not be alone. This is the story of a girl alive with hope.
"Hope, sweet Hope, how much more can she take being our strength when our hearts run out of faith?... Hope is with me in my time of trouble, when it all comes crashing down she will stay by my side digging through the rubble. She's not giving up, not giving up, not giving up..." [Hope, Remedy Drive]
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Top of the Mornin' to ya!
We have a few traditions in my family for St. Patrick's Day. I know what you're thinking--What does a family that's pretty proud of their German heritage have to do with St. Patrick's Day (especially when none of them are drinkers)? Well....two things.
First, my brother is a St. Pattie's Day baby. That's right, for the last 17 years we dressed him up in green to avoid pinches on his birthday. When he was little we would have green-themed parties because it was just too convenient.
This year he's turning 18, and it occurred to me that we haven't properly celebrated his birthday with a good ol' fashion party since he was 8. That's 10 years without a birthday party with his friends. Weird. So, this year I'm throwing him a surprise party. It works out well because I'm home for break and I can plan and cook while he's at school.
For the surprise party with his friends I'm making the following:
Shamrock pretzels (super yummy)
Cookie dough-Oreo-Brownies
Aztec Calendar (a favorite)
Green punch
For the family party, which he knows about:
Green velvet cake (man, is it green!)
Aztec Calendar (another one)
Watergate Salad (yum!)
I feel like I'm forgetting something.... it'll occur to me eventually, I'm sure.
So yeah. My fingers are green from the cake making tonight. Oh well, the price I pay for loving my little brother. Ha.
Second, my family really enjoys John Wayne, and in case you didn't know, he's in a movie called "The Quiet Man." It's a favorite, we've watched it every St. Patrick's Day for at least the last 5 years. I've missed it because I've been at school, but I'm excited to be home this year.
Life's interesting.
"There'll be no locks or bolts between us, Mary Kate... except those in your own mercenary little heart!" [John Wayne's character in "The Quiet Man"]
First, my brother is a St. Pattie's Day baby. That's right, for the last 17 years we dressed him up in green to avoid pinches on his birthday. When he was little we would have green-themed parties because it was just too convenient.
This year he's turning 18, and it occurred to me that we haven't properly celebrated his birthday with a good ol' fashion party since he was 8. That's 10 years without a birthday party with his friends. Weird. So, this year I'm throwing him a surprise party. It works out well because I'm home for break and I can plan and cook while he's at school.
For the surprise party with his friends I'm making the following:
Shamrock pretzels (super yummy)
Cookie dough-Oreo-Brownies
Aztec Calendar (a favorite)
Green punch
For the family party, which he knows about:
Green velvet cake (man, is it green!)
Aztec Calendar (another one)
Watergate Salad (yum!)
I feel like I'm forgetting something.... it'll occur to me eventually, I'm sure.
So yeah. My fingers are green from the cake making tonight. Oh well, the price I pay for loving my little brother. Ha.
Second, my family really enjoys John Wayne, and in case you didn't know, he's in a movie called "The Quiet Man." It's a favorite, we've watched it every St. Patrick's Day for at least the last 5 years. I've missed it because I've been at school, but I'm excited to be home this year.
Life's interesting.
"There'll be no locks or bolts between us, Mary Kate... except those in your own mercenary little heart!" [John Wayne's character in "The Quiet Man"]
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Says She's Got Hope...
The month of February was a rough one. I wish I could say it was just me, but it isn't. If I were the only one struggling it would have been more bearable, but nearly everyone I interact with was having some kind of problem too.
Really, it all started to unravel the week of Valentine's Day. Please don't take this as a single hating on the holiday devoted to couples--it's not. I really have no problem with Valentine's Day, except that it means there is way too much chocolate just floating around. In fact, I was even determined to have a good February 14th because, honestly, the week before had been awful for some people and I didn't want the trend to continue.
I went to bed that Monday praying I would get a letter from a graduate program. In my dreams I would be accepted into the Literature program at my top choice of school. It would be a day to write home about.
Well. I did call home, several times that day, but it had nothing to do with grad school letters. I was having some chest pain that was worrisome. I spent Valentine's Day morning in and out of various medical locations. Alone. (And I wasn't pining for a special someone, I just wanted my momma.)
A couple days later (Thursday) I had mail. An envelope from my preferred school. It was small, average letter size. Why do we put so much of our fate into the seals of envelopes? Inside was a perfectly creased rejection letter. My heart sank, and all through my British Literature class I was distracted. At one point, my professor called on me, and I scrambled to find the answer to a question I hardly heard. When I apologized after class for being distracted I cried. In front of a professor, whom I love but have no emotional connection with, I cried.
Since that day I've been riddled with thoughts of rejection, and in the back of my mind I can hear Professor Reek chanting, "They don't know what they're missing!" But as the days go on, his voice fades away and I'm left alone with the self doubt. What if I didn't get into the literature program because I'm not ready? I'm not passionate enough? I don't have what it takes?
This last week I found out I didn't get into one of the Creative Writing programs I applied to...and the questions started up again. (It was even the program that I was least interested in, and I still got upset about it.) Maybe this is all God's way of telling me that I picked the wrong career path.
That's just my stuff. And my stuff this month seems pretty lame compared to every thing else that my friends are going through.
I've started drinking tea again--like, every night and day. I also turned on some Anberlin. I don't know why I forget that they are one of the few bands that lets me wallow for a little while before convincing me it's time to get back up again. I need to put that in a hubby letter, something like this: "When I'm upset or depressed, put on some Anberlin and it will probably be okay in a few hours." (This rut is taking longer than a few hours to work myself out of.)
This will be a better month. March means spring is coming, and spring means there is hope.
"You're so brilliant. Don't soon forget. You're so brilliant. Grace marks your heart." [Anberlin, The Unwinding Cable Car]
Really, it all started to unravel the week of Valentine's Day. Please don't take this as a single hating on the holiday devoted to couples--it's not. I really have no problem with Valentine's Day, except that it means there is way too much chocolate just floating around. In fact, I was even determined to have a good February 14th because, honestly, the week before had been awful for some people and I didn't want the trend to continue.
I went to bed that Monday praying I would get a letter from a graduate program. In my dreams I would be accepted into the Literature program at my top choice of school. It would be a day to write home about.
Well. I did call home, several times that day, but it had nothing to do with grad school letters. I was having some chest pain that was worrisome. I spent Valentine's Day morning in and out of various medical locations. Alone. (And I wasn't pining for a special someone, I just wanted my momma.)
A couple days later (Thursday) I had mail. An envelope from my preferred school. It was small, average letter size. Why do we put so much of our fate into the seals of envelopes? Inside was a perfectly creased rejection letter. My heart sank, and all through my British Literature class I was distracted. At one point, my professor called on me, and I scrambled to find the answer to a question I hardly heard. When I apologized after class for being distracted I cried. In front of a professor, whom I love but have no emotional connection with, I cried.
Since that day I've been riddled with thoughts of rejection, and in the back of my mind I can hear Professor Reek chanting, "They don't know what they're missing!" But as the days go on, his voice fades away and I'm left alone with the self doubt. What if I didn't get into the literature program because I'm not ready? I'm not passionate enough? I don't have what it takes?
This last week I found out I didn't get into one of the Creative Writing programs I applied to...and the questions started up again. (It was even the program that I was least interested in, and I still got upset about it.) Maybe this is all God's way of telling me that I picked the wrong career path.
That's just my stuff. And my stuff this month seems pretty lame compared to every thing else that my friends are going through.
I've started drinking tea again--like, every night and day. I also turned on some Anberlin. I don't know why I forget that they are one of the few bands that lets me wallow for a little while before convincing me it's time to get back up again. I need to put that in a hubby letter, something like this: "When I'm upset or depressed, put on some Anberlin and it will probably be okay in a few hours." (This rut is taking longer than a few hours to work myself out of.)
This will be a better month. March means spring is coming, and spring means there is hope.
"You're so brilliant. Don't soon forget. You're so brilliant. Grace marks your heart." [Anberlin, The Unwinding Cable Car]
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