Thanks and Givings...

I am thankful for…
The pursuing love of Christ.
The freedom to love.
A large family.
With a large dog.
My friends.
Especially the trifecta of joy.
Colorado sunsets.
And the hope of sunrises.
Words.
Coffee.
Especially when it is made by the hands of Starbucks employees.
Travel.
Books. And bookshelves filled with books. And especially when those bookshelves are in my house. Not for decoration purposes. Not for balance. But because books are one of the things that make me feel alive.
Purposeful endings.
And fresh beginnings.
Music, which sometimes feels like it was written by a soulmate.
And soulmates who don’t laugh when I quote musicians…musicians like John Mayer.
Grace. Which, according to Anne Lamott, and which I have so often experienced, acts like water wings when you are sinking.
People who dispense grace.
Families that aren’t mine, but feel like mine. Like the Tuckers, the Swains, the Adams, the Warkentins, the Underwoods…
Crackling fires.
The soothing affect of red wine. No, I am not a wino, and take off your judgement caps, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
Brilliant autumn colors.
And mutued winter hues.
Laughter, deep, belly laughter.
Food.
All the people who have come into my life and made me exactly who I am today…down to the color of my hair (tips to Laura and Wendy) and the way I walk (darling physical therapist, this one’s for you), and the way I think (oh, there are just too many of you to list...but I love you all).
I am thankful. Sometimes I don’t feel thankful, but the truth is, that doesn't change the actual state of my thankful soul. I am one who is thankful.

Let the Breaking Begin!

I broke today. A thousand little pieces scattered like the snow that for ten minutes fell outside the window. I broke, and I shook, and I curled into a ball under my blanket and asked God to make the world stop spinning. And I asked God why it was so easy for them to walk away. Why the little ripples in their life were such big waves in mine. And I asked him to make me disappear for just a little bit. For long enough to find one of the little pieces lost in the wind.
My stomach hurts from crying the kinds of sobs that tear through you. My eyes are swollen. And I can’t quite think straight. I only know that what makes moments like this hard, is the single fact that the person who is tearing you up and throwing you into the wind is the only person who can recollect you. At least for right now.
And I know it is just a “for right now.” I know that this will be placed on the list of acceptable losses. I know that in just three months, or two, or who knows, maybe even one, the pain will be dull instead of sharp. The memories will be faded instead of clear. In a year, I will wish him every happiness with some other girl. But, right now, the most human part of me just wants him to ache like I ache. I just want to know that he too felt some tear within his soul. That he too, isn’t just thankful that I shared a year of my world with him, but aches over the fact that he won’t get any more. I want to know that in the middle of the night he has woken up wanting to tell me something and that during the day he sometimes forgets that he will never again get to kiss me. Or talk to me. Or hear my thoughts. Or hear me laugh at myself. Or watch me fiddle as I think. I want to know that something inside of him has broken too…
But, again, in the future, I will only want his happiness and will look forward to heaven, when not one iota of this will matter.
Cheers to the ripping on day five, not twenty-five. I only ask that this means my recovery will be speedy as well, since the Novocain wore off so fast…

The Strangeness of Breaking

It is completely unnatural, this breaking up we do. Someone was in your life. A steady, firm, foundational part of your life. They became the voice. They became the shoulder. They became the face and the hands that you hold. And then, quite suddenly they are gone. Completely, and utterly gone.
They did not move. They did not die. They did not recieve a call from God to pursue revivals in a different part of the city. They are just, simply, gone from your life.
Two days ago Jordan and I broke up. We spent a lovely two weeks in cities across Europe. We laughed and talked and felt frustrated and confused. And then, suddenly, we broke up.
I sat yesterday in a car off the side of the road watching the sun drop below the Colorado mountains, staining the sky with yellows and purples and reds and I wondered at that phrase. We. Broke. Up.
Something does break when things end, doesn't it? Something small, or big, whatever the case may be, breaks inside of us.
I sat in the car and I felt the first waves of those little, broken pieces moving inside of me. I felt the first wave when it feels like your soul may burst through your stomach and leave you in little pieces. I felt the first steps of the knees weakening, which when followed through leaves you facing your hands which are clasping the ground as if trying to remember which is the floor and which is the ceiling because the room doesn't stop spinning.
But, I didn't break this time, Tash. And when the little quake passed, when the little wave settled, I was okay.
And maybe this is the part that confuses me most...I. am. okay. He was in my life for a year and a half. He became my closest friend in Southern California. He made me laugh. I believed in him. He was good. And yet, I am okay.
But, on day two, the novacaine stil hasn't worn off. I will let you know if the pieces are still held together on day 25.

Dearest Tasha,

I can't tell you how excited I am to begin journeying with you again!!! Let the new technological version of the purple journal begin! Thank you, once again, for sharing your home with me for those few, glorious days. For reminding me what it means to dream, to be free, and to hope that life contains more than what we see around us. I love you.
Now, let the blog begin.

Dear Amber

I'll miss you friend! It's been a delight welcoming you into my weekend and catching up on the last two years of life. I smile thinking of you as a house pet to some hospitable family in Orange County, the girlfriend of some phenomenal guy Will Maizeland has a man-crush on, and travelling the world stand-by. Thank you for being wonderful. Now write a book. Love Tasha