Mom and Robert Frost

I've had a number of false starts as I've tried to begin this blog post tonight. I began to write about perfectionism (that one will come when I get it just right), heroes and writer's block. Each time I felt listless before the end of the first sentence.

Then my mom called and asked what I was doing. When I told her I was trying to write a blog post, she said, "Oh! Then I'll let you go so you can concentrate."

My mom has always thought I am a smarter, better person than I really am. She also tells me how much she loves reading my blog. Her excitement for a new post is genuine and her support made me pause and think for a moment about the people in my life who do a good job of supporting me. The list is long and thinking through it reminded me of my favorite poem, "The Silken Tent" by Robert Frost.

She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To every thing on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.

Tonight I'm thankful for the countless ties of love and thought that push me closer to the silken tent woman I want to be. 

Are there any poems that inspire or charm your soul?

Multitude Monday {10.21.13}

For Saturday yard sales, friends around a fire pit, good conversation and the best baby in the world: I give thanks.

Warmth on this rainy day.

I spent the day listening to seminars at a satellite conference hosted by my school. One of the conferences on technology talked about the fast-paced nature of our world. We are constantly overstimulated; numerous sources vie for our attention every day. I feel it when I check my phone first thing in the morning, bounce between tabs on my web browser and plan my lessons while listening to a seminar on educational technology. In the midst of distractions flashing like neon signs, I need moments to stop and breathe and think and wait.

That's when I make a big pot of soup.

Tonight I made sweet potato cauliflower soup. It is very simple and easy to make, but the process is slow and involves a lot of waiting. The waiting worked out for me, though. I read Chaucer and did some laundry as the soup did its thing.

If you're interested, you can find the recipe here. The simplicity of the soup was great (only 5 ingredients plus water), but it needed some spice.

Any tips on spicing up a sweet potato based soup?

Multitude Monday {10.14.13}

My multitude:

The way the sky looks when I'm laying in a hammock.

Breakfast for dinner and the way it makes me feel like I'm getting away with something. When I have a family to feed, we will treat breakfast for dinner like a grand, stealthy adventure. 

The end of quarter one at school. Hoorah for surviving my first 25%!

And a weekend at home within my reach.

Be energized by gratitude, friends.

Old truth, new arrangement.

Rock of Ages (When the Day Seems Long)


"Your promise holds just like an anchor to my soul."

Close from far away.

My friends have been scattered to the four corners of the earth.

Not to be histrionic or anything.
(Histrionic: (adj.) theatrical, artificial, melodramatic. Thank you, teaching job, for teaching me new vocab words.)

Back to the unexaggerated main point. This year is a a transition year for me and for many of my friends as well. Some have graduated and some have gotten married. We have taken new jobs and moved to new cities and countries. A few months ago my friends faces were five minutes away from me at any given moment. Now a phone call must close the distance between us. As grateful as I am for modern technology, the distance looks a lot like loss most days.

At the same time, losing the immediate presence of my close friends is teaching me some lessons. I say "is teaching" because these lessons are in process. I see them intermittently, like a picture coming through the filmy gray of a Polaroid.

I am first learning the treasure of true friends. My dear ones are ladies who know my heart because they have taken the time to prod and question. When I am with them, I am seen with deep acceptance. They see my sin--have suffered under the weight of it, in fact--yet press in closer. They value the quirks and facets of my personality which I feel free to show when I am with them. They believe I am smart and gifted, and their belief enables me to live boldly. Most importantly, they preach the Gospel to me daily in their words and actions.

Do you know this kind of friendship? I hope so.

I am secondly learning that love moves out. God's love is a gathering place and a sending source. This love brought my friends and I together for a sweet time. We defined friendship for one another, and now He has sent us far and wide with that experiential definition of friendship. In a world marked by wrecked relationships, a small battalion of women believe that the hard work of building friendships pays off. Wherever we live, we can testify to the way that He uses friendship.

A heart that aches for friends who are far away is a heart that has experienced immense blessing. What now? I hope the answer is a movement of gratitude and not bitterness.

A love letter

To October.

Here you are, once again one-upping August and September. Those two bring newness, and for that I am thankful. But they also cling to summer and seem to embody all of the hard parts of change.

And then you come along with cool weather, pumpkins, bonfires, boots and scarves. Every crunching leaf seems like a promise I can't quite identify but still trust wholeheartedly. The air, crisp and smoky, makes me stop just to breath long and slow.

You look to be a busy month, with packed weekdays and no vacation. It will be long and I feel worn and weary at the beginning. When these burdens feel heavy and my feet start to drag through the day-to-day, all I have to do is step outside. I look for new signs of Autumn--that air, that smell, those sounds and colors-- and rejoice because in the midst of the busyness, there will also be deep bursting color, an apple festival and maybe a fair.

Why does hope distinctly resemble the changing leaves this time of year? Maybe because death that leads to life speaks to the human soul. Maybe because the process unfurls at the hands of a Creator whose eye for beauty is ours as well, however faded our vision. Maybe because our felt need for change at the close of each season speaks to the cosmic need for change, a need that will one day be fully met. Maybe simply because He loves His own and loves to whisper hope.

In any case, here's to you, October. With love.