Caught in the moment

Dear readers, this week I had the pleasure to guest post for The Coffee Shop Chronicles over at Paisley Rain Boots, a blog run by my dear mother. You can find the post here, or enjoy it below. 

A hum of chatter fills the room. Every open space is filled with the voice of one or another. 

There are the three in the corner, opposite the one in which I have taken up residency. College students tucked into the l-shaped booth: one boy, two girls. They are done with the days demands of class. They are out, making their rounds on this blustery day where the temperature reads in the single digits. I overhear the next stop being the local brewery, less than a block from the coffee shop. Only college students would move from coffee shop to brewery. 

Then there are the pairs. 

The two girls, in their early twenties, deep in conversation. Their large ceramic mugs out in front of them: emptied. They never intended to stay this long. They have spent the last hour telling one story after another, playing catch up after last weeks mid-semester break. They've taken this time, this hour, to pull away from the textbooks full of terms, the research papers waiting to be typed, and the exam that needs prepping for to connect and reconnect. 

The second pair. Two men. Their lives are an open avenue. College degrees under their belt, but unsure of which path to take. Scared and not ready to leave the comforts of this college town. Not ready to say farewell to the great lake, ski hills, nights out on the town, and even the ten a.m classes. For now they sit, coffee in front of them, and push away the unknown of reality. 

Only three voices remain silent. 

One. He has been there for hours, bent over his laptop and on his fourth cup of coffee. He is writing, or rather typing, with a few select books open on the table before him. A graduate student nearing the end, working to perfect this thesis paper. He, too, like the pair of men is feeling the pressures of the open avenue of life that lies ahead of him. But, for now, the thesis paper is his focus. 

Two. Another man. A cup of soup in a to-go cup in front of him, though he doesn't seem to be going anywhere. His cup of water still full rests beside him. He seems to be breathing in the moment; taking a moment to sit, eat, and think about this game of life we are all players in.

And last, me. I'm tucked in the corner table, alongside the big front window. I find myself surrounded by papers filled with scrawled handwriting: words of story and thought. Wondering which words to use and which ones to save for another time. Boots off, chai latte long gone, and The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis open to his piece on "Learning in War-Time". I'm caught in the moment.

The coffee shop: a place for conversation and growth, learning and discovering. A place to think, to write, and simply, a place to sit. A place to delight in and rejoice in. A place to be in the moment. As C.S. Lewis once said, "Never . . . commit your virtue or your happiness to the future"; rather, rejoice in the happiness of the moment you are in.

Let's crave together like we crave chocolate

Home was a place she missed. There were days where the missing was a surface level feeling and other days it was a deep pit that could not be filled. Being far away in a vast city with coffee shops on every street corner was thrilling, exciting even, but there was a but.
That but was a bit that embodied a need to be with someone. Not in a "significant other" sense, rather, quite simply, a someone whose presence created company.

She had no "other" to accompany her to the street corner coffee shop. She would go alone, and alone is good for some time, but alone added up to loneliness. Her routine was the same: chai latte, skim milk, corner table. She hid the loneliness with laptop plugged in or book pulled out with pencil and notebook alongside.

She would watch. People came in, out, they stayed, they sat, they left. There were the young with young, the young and the old, and the old with the old. There were the couples: hand holding, conversation building, latte sharing couples that made her dream and gag all at once. There were the mothers wheeling their stroller bound children in, or clinging to their hand to make sure they did not wander away.

They were all together.

She craved together like she craved chocolate. She had a desire for someone to chat with and an even deeper desire to be with someone, simply to listen to them. To listen to their story of life. It had been some time since she did that: listen to someone. Each time she found herself together with someone, though rare, they wanted to hear about her; her house, her job, her this and her that. She was done, done talking about her. She craved a moment of togetherness, to sit with a steaming latte between her and someone else and listen.

//

Life is a story of not one, but many. Life is a simple, yet vastly overcomplicated story, woven together with a few pieces of thread. We are all living a story; yes, with different characters, different moments of climax, and different endings, but we all share the common bond of story.

It is a story where we crave togetherness. A good story, the ones we love to read, to hear are made up of more than just a party for one. We need one another. We need to talk, we need to listen. Life is beautiful. And our stories are best lived, best shared with one another. So lets crave together like we crave chocolate.

Dear child, it is time to

Learn.

Time to learn how to kick those feet and move those arms. Growing up next to a big lake means you must learn, and child it is time to learn how to swim. No mother is going to let their child lose in rough waters if they do not understand the concept of how to stay afloat. If you cannot swim, you drown, so it is time you learn to swim.

I will go with you, show you the motions. Hold you tight at first, but overtime my grip will loosen and I will not cling so tight. Child, if you want to go out into the world you have to know how to swim. There are rough waters out there and you have to be ready to face them. You have to know how to keep afloat or else, you drown.

It sounds simple, and in theory it is. But life, my child is one big complicated, unknown, uncertain sea we are all trying to navigate. I will not always be there to hold you tight, but I will always be on the shore encouraging you along. Child, you have to learn to swim on your own. You will get the movements down over time; soon it will become second nature. Practice you must, but once you know how you always will, just like the time you learned how to ride a bike.

You will fail. It is a part of the process. There will be times you will feel like you are drowning and you may be. Then remember all you must do is kick your feet and move your arms. With those movements you will stop drowning and move forward onto greater shores and big waters.

It is time, my child, to learn how to swim. Time to learn how to navigate.

like pussy willows, you are enough

Flowers are enough.

"It was early spring and there was nothing my friend could find for his grandmother but a few sprigs of pussy willow. As he gave them to her, minutes before she died, she pressed them to her face and whispered, 'They're grand, my love. And enough'".  -from The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis, unearthed in the introduction by Walter Hooper.

It wasn't about the gift of the flowers, no for grandmother it was the thought behind the gift. In the final moments of the her life she desired not something of grandeur, not a gold ring, but rather the simple act of love her grandson showed by bringing her flowers. 

The flowers were enough for her. 

And they should be enough for all of us.

The world will shout out you are not enough. People will tell you, grades, reviews, and the paycheck will show you that you are not enough. We all feel like we fall short, each day. But we have to pull away from being not enough and come to embrace that we are. We are enough, we are like those pussy willows to the grandmother. We are enough. 

Yes, we are broken there is no denying that. We are humans. We've been broken from the moment Eve ate the fruit in the garden, but we cannot dwell in the brokenness. 

We are enough. Enough for the world, for ourselves, and for the Creator. 

Moving forward in the day, weeks, and months ahead pull away from not enough. Take a moment to read this. Take a friend out to dinner, invite them over for tea for the simple reason of just because. Love people. Love yourself. And remember you are like those pussy willows to the grandmother, enough. 

Spinach-Pesto Pasta with Mushrooms and Ricotta

It is that time of year. Caught inside as the winds whip outside, dropping the temperature to an arctic chill that reads below zero. 

Yesterday, stuck inside I tried my hand at a new food creation: spinach-pesto. 

I watched a the food processor's blades turned with each push of the pulse button. Combining the garlic with the spinach and the spinach with the basil; the basil with the parmesan cheese followed with a dash of olive oil and lemon juice, and a pinch of salt to top it off.

The final pulse left me with a smooth combination of pesto, with a slight overpowering aroma of garlic. 

For those of you who find yourselves caught inside while the winter winds blow step into the kitchen, search Pinterest, and try your hand at a new food creation (maybe even this spinach-pesto).

Spinach-Pesto

[need] 

1 clove garlic

1/4 cup fresh basil (I used dried basil, but would recommend fresh)

1 cup fresh packed baby spinach

1/4 cup parmesan cheese (with a sprinkle more, who doesn't love cheese?)

2 tablespoons olive oil 

2 tablespoons lemon juice

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

[create]

First, mince the clove of garlic and place in food processor. Add the remaining ingredients and pulse into well combined. Taste, and tailor as needed. I found myself adding more spinach and cheese. Remove from food processor and place in jar. Refrigerate. 

Now what to do with the pesto? I combined it with pasta. Try out this recipe below. 

Spinach-Pesto Pasta with Mushrooms and Ricotta 

[need] 

Freshly made spinach-pesto

8 oz whole wheat pasta 

1/3 cup ricotta cheese 

Mushrooms (desired amount)

[create] 

First, sauté mushrooms in olive oil. Next bring a pot of water to a boil. Once the water is boiling cook the pasta as directed on packaging. Drain pasta. Place desired amount of pasta in a bowl, add a spoonful of the pesto. Next add ricotta cheese and top with mushrooms. Mix together. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve immediately. 

[both recipes adopted from Naturally Ella]

silence & you

I've been thinking. Thinking about silence.
I find myself comfortable with it. The introverted bit of me craves it. I have sat in rooms with people who are the opposite, who feel the desire to fill the silence with mindless chatter. Sometimes, in those moments with those people, I, to be quite frank want to say shut up would you. Yet, I have a bigger mind than mouth when it comes to speaking my thoughts, which is good.
But what's so wrong with silence?

It allows you to sit with YOU.

Sitting with yourself, a scary thought because in that moment you have to face yourself.

photographer: stellan herner

Sometimes I sit on the couch or at the kitchen table and simply be. And in that moment I am doing nothing, literally nothing. I stare at the wall. The wall I tell you. Who sits and stares at the wall?

We all have things to do, places to be, and people to call. We have so much to do. Guilt creeps in when we find ourselves sitting and doing nothing. Guilt is beside me when it is just me and the open room. Guilt for what I should be doing and who I should be.

Sit. Alone in a room. Who does that?

But you want to know a secret. We have to do that. We are human beings so plugged into the world, so overwhelmed with lists that are pages in length. Overwhelmed by the cluttered agenda book filled with places to be and people to attend to. The list of to-do's will only continue increase in length.
It is time to stop and stare, to sit there. Yes, sit there my friend. It will serve you well.

We have to be comfortable with ourselves in an open room. We have to, how else are we going to know who we are? Be comfortable in who we are? We have to overcome the guilt we feel and the only way to do that is to face it.

We have to be comfortable with ourselves in a silent room.

For a moment forget the people, the places, and sit. Disconnect from the chaos, and connect with yourself. You have to, for you.

Friends, I'm back!

My dear mother and grand blogger herself has nominated me for an award. This award has come at time, well, so perfectly timed. I have begun to embrace my blog once more. I have ached for it in the past months, but with the fullness of life it was tucked into a corner untouched.
I am grasping for it once more. I need it. I need to let the words flow once more. I've got ideas... the importance of lemon zest, you deserve someone who calls you beautiful, farmer jane, plus I am including a new addition FOOD.

But back to the point of this post. I've been nominated, in which I am ever grateful. I am choosing to embrace the award, but yet not passing it on. One, I don't follow enough blogs in the blogging world to nominate ten people in return. And two, I want to put my emphasis into writing, not awarding.

Yet, I thought it would be fun to answer the ten questions posed for the nomination. And link you all back to the wonders of the one who nominated me.

One. Favorite Movie?
Currently, I love Julie and Julia.

Two. What are you reading right now?
The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

Three. Sweet Potatoes or Russet Potatoes?
Sweet Potatoes, yum!

Four. Honey or Sugar?
Honey [my grandpa's to be exact].

Five. Favorite Weekend Activity?
The cliche college student answer of sleeping in, but also to note I love the Saturday morning Farmer's Market.

Six. What decade would you most liked to have lived in?
1920's, The Great Gatsby is my inspiration here.

Seven. Makeup or a la natural?
I love the idea of a la natural, but I have to be honest I wear makeup. The bare minimum though of only foundation and mascara.

Eight. Tea or Coffee?
Now that is a silly question, TEA!

Nine. Sweet or Salty?
I love a combination, but lean towards sweet.

Ten. Thing that you are most proud of accomplishing this year?
Embracing, learning, and perfecting the art of cooking and baking.

I filled a jar for you, for me, and for the dreamers.

It is a jar filled. Filled with not so finely folded papers. Tiny, little papers. Not large sheets one would write a letter on. Just scraps. Pieces that had no meaning until the ink of the pen landed upon them. With the meeting of ink to paper, prayers form. Prayers of hope, hope for the future. The prayers of pain, the pain of yesterday, of heartbreak; the fear of tomorrow. Prayers of loss, confusion, uncertainty. Those tiny, once unused pieces of paper now hold the prayers of the young and old; the hopeful and the heartbroken.

They are prayers collected. Written, spoken, read in the body language of the sweet souls that have sat across the table from me. From the people I have encountered; the friendships that have been molded.
Collected.
Then nestled in the chair, I pull out each prayer. One by one. And pray for you.

Remember that time we talked, with the coffee stained table between us, cups of tea warming our winter worn hands. You told me about your fears and dreams. 
I wrote them down. Each one. Because prayers are not a one person deal. Those little things you told me with a smile spread across your face, those bigs things you whispered to me with a voice shaken by confusion. I wrote them down.

I filled a jar for you. For me. For the loss souls, the broken hearted. And for the young dreamers.

What I have been learning.

It begins with a rocking chair and tea.

Tea in a cup, hand crafted by the humble hands of a human. A human broken in a broken world. Unending pain, anger, confusion. Yet even amongst the broken, shattered pieces of this world joy is found. Joy is found while shaping a vessel of clay. A cup is shaped, which holds the fine perfection of tea. Tea that is sipped by me as I contemplate life from a rocking chair.

Five things to think on. Five things to comtemplate as I look out at big sky country. The mountain range of perfection. Why am I here? Why has God placed me here? In it I must be gentle, humble, and quiet. Listening is the key to the art of quietness. Here in this place I listen. I approach with gentleness and desire to hear. To hear the stories of broken people. I too listen for the voice of the Creator who shaped each triangle, each misshaped mountain. Among it all I pray for peace, discernment, for time. I pray among people. I pray alone. Praying for the brokenness of the Rez, the people I've encountered. And selfishly I pray for me, for my brokenness. I seek. Oh how I seek. In patience, I have received. And I've found peace in my quietness. Last, I remember that the shadow proves the sunshine. The trials of the beginning weeks. The baggage, the fear, the confusion, the uncertainty. How those trials have illuminated the greatness of the Creator. To go to the mountains, to seek our Creator. How I've grown. I find myself broken as all humans are. But I find hope in a Creator who has shaped the sky, the mountains, and me.

The best book of poetry begins with "In the beginning..."

Poetry is a powerful form of language... of writing... of art. An honest poem can cause a reader to burst out in pure laughter; it can cause them to weep tears of sorrow and pain. A raw, real, all natural poem pulls at the heartstrings of the reader. They connect. 

Poetry is powerful. It is writings of one observer, read by another. A poet is a creator, and the best poet is our Creator. And the best book of poetry begins with "In the beginning..".

This idea of the Bible as one giant work of poetry has come about in the past. Past sermons I've listened too, talks I've heard, discussions I've been a part of; needless to say I've heard this idea before. But it did not come to full reality until I attend a conference this past April. The focus of the conference: connecting arts to the heart of God.

Over the course of the two day conference I witnessed the lyrical songs of Josh Garrels, attended workshops on the sacred art of listening, creative writing as a spiritual disciple, and the many purposes of song.

The discussion, the seed planting idea of the Bible as poetry was brought forth in one the main sessions. When Tim Mackie read the piece below from Isaiah 30: 9-18. It was during his reading that I become head over heels for the poetry of our Creator.

THIS is what sold me, convinced me...
[Bring out the inner poet within you as you read this aloud]:

For these are rebellious people, deceitful children,
     children unwilling to listen to the Lord's instruction.
They say to the seers,
     "See no more visions!"
and to the prophets,
     "Give us no more visions of what is right!
Tell us pleasant things,
     prophesy illusions.
Leave this way, get off this path,
     and stop confronting us
  with the Holy One of Israel!"
Therefore this is what the Holy One of Israel says:
     "Because you have rejected this message,
          relied on oppression
          and depended on deceit,
     this sin will become for you
          like a high wall, cracked and bulging,
          that collapses suddenly, in an instant.
     It will break in pieces like pottery,
          shattered so mercilessly
     that among its pieces not a fragment will be found
          for taking coals from a hearth
          or scooping water out of a cistern."
This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says:
     "In repentance and rest is your salvation,
          in quietness and trust is your strength,
          but you would have none of it.
     You said, 'No, we will flee on horses.'
          Therefore you will flee!
     You said, 'We will ride off on swift horses.'
          Therefore your pursuers will be swift!
     A thousand will flee
          at the threat of one
     at the threat of five
          you will all flee away,
      till you are left
          like a flagstaff on a mountaintop,
          like a banner on a hill."
     Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you;
          therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
     For the Lord is a God of justice.
          Blessed are all who wait for him! [Isaiah 30: 9-18]

Words are powerful... they shape futures, they change lives. Poems are words. The words of the best book of poetry can shape futures and change lives.

You, you with your humility...

My someday child I picture you with your head resting upon the pink hued pillow, curls filling the empty void of space around your sweet face. Lips perfectly lined as you dream sweet dreams, counting sheep as they dance along in your mind.  

As I stand alongside your bed, watching you sleep, I let these thoughts fill my mind. Words of prayer being whispered into the still room. Child, remain humble. Hold tight to the humility you posses at the young age you are. Clench it in your fist and never let go. Have the patience of calm. When you face the trials of busy, of exhaustion, of failure hold tight to the ship flying the flag of patience. 

credit to Elizabeth Blank Photography

Be kind. Be gentle. Hold fast to gentleness. Do not let the winds of this world pull gentleness and grace from you. In your humility, patience, kindness, gentleness... love. Love those who need love; love all for we all need love. Find the little, the small, and love on it. Love in weakness, in loss, in beauty.  

Be the light on the hill. Shine for your Creator; the one who has crafted the being of you. Shine! Shine your light around the world. In the being of you be what you are called to be. Even in the darkness of uncertainty, in fear. Step out on the edge and try. Try, fail. Fail and learn. Try, try again, and conquer. Conquer the world with love.  

My someday child with your soft curls, your porcelain skin fill yourself with humility, patience, kindness, gentleness, and love.

Searching for your story

When you are stuck, you desire a place of creative inspiration. A place filled with overwhelming creativity. A desk overlooking a garden filled with bright colored poppies. A quaint coffee shop on the corner between Central and Eighth. A room where rustic wood lines the walls, covered in vintage black and white photographs.

Photographs of stories. The wrinkled hands of a Navajo woman. The portrait of a flapper girl from the twenties. A "in the moment" snapshot of a young girl wrapped in the beauty of the ocean, searching.
How often we search. We search for meaning, words, stories, lives. We search for people, spouses, children. We search for meaning greater than our own. For faith.
We search.
Now I search for the words to type because I am stuck. I am stuck without words. My writing has halted, stalled.

In one month I will search for adventure. I will wander the mountains, the open field, the mighty big sky. I will search the sky for faith. I will stand arms open. Listening.
Listening for the words I seek. Standing in the purple field of love, from the handiwork of a Creator who loves me. Even in the weeks I fail to bow my head and whisper up a silent prayer. The days I fail to acknowledge a might greater than mine. He loves me.

I am tired of searching. Aren't we all. We see the photographs lining the wall and think they won in their search. Yet the Navajo woman searched for a place to call home as her land was swept out from beneath her. As her culture, her language was torn away from her in rooms boarded with rules. Searching for HER story in the midst of it all. The twenties flapper searched for beauty, for love. She threw herself at the word, searching for acceptance. The young girl at the ocean searched for a stone, a shell. For a smile and a hope.

Add your photograph to the wall. Will you be bent over a typewriter searching for a story. Huddled over a cup of tea searching for the words to say. The life to live. Here is a hint: stop searching for your story and start living it.

To those who taught

You sit at the table, carved down by the gnarled hands of a man whose spot now sits empty. You were young, the day that spot opened up, left for dust to collect on, but felt the pain. You lost a gentle hand to carry you through.
It has been years now since that spot was filled with the warmth of a body. Yet each day you head to the barn, cling to the wheel of the tractor, and feel the spot where his hands once held tight. You run your hand over the spot on the seat worn thin from Wrangler jeans.
So this day you will remember a man who taught you to work hard and never stop. To love through action, through silent words.

*A few months back I stumbled on this blog by Hannah Brencher through Good Women Project, and whoa! What a grand read. I was inspired, caught up in each word I read. She has the art of writing finely perfected. She knows how to pull your heart strings, and the ones connected to thought. She gets you thinking. That is what blogs are for, as much as they are for selfish pleasure of pouring thought into reader, it is as much a place for thought creation.
My hope, my wish is that one day my blog will become so finely tuned, that my words will have the impact of Hannah's; that I can provoke thought and create dreams.
So that is why todays piece is written as it is. It is a piece written to honor those who served, who loved, and who taught. On this Memorial Day take time to remember the people, like the grandfather above, who taught us to work hard and never stop loving through action. Oh and do not forget to check out Hannah's blog.

Five things to think on

First, to provoke thought:
why does God have me where I am?

A question I ask myself often, but a good one to think on. God is using us in every moment of every day. Be happy with where you are now, even if you'd rather be in a different place.

Second, to strive to be:
humble, gentle, and quiet

"Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight." -1 Peter 3: 4

Third, to do more of:
PRAY

Prayer is strong. A friend recently shared a story of prayer with me, her experience brought me to tears. Prayer is powerful. Prayer is not limited to before each meal; be in constant communication with God. 

Fourth, to remember:
when you seek, you receive

"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." -Jeremiah 29: 13

Fifth, to know:
that the shadow proves the sunshine

The trials of life illuminate the greatness of God's love and grace. We have to climb the mountain in order to enjoy the view from the top.

Those days...

You know those days. 

Those days were you're tired of watching the rainy mixture of snow fall. Those days 

when you've had enough of walking on ice.

When you are tired of studying, even though you have yet to open your notes.

Yesterday was one of those days.

I needed to get away. And I couldn't simply drive home. 

Instead, I made my way to Donkers' for lunch. 

It was delicious. My stomach had been crazing real food.

The half-and-half combo is my new favorite. 

Half a Tuna Melt and a cup of Creamy Portobello soup, yum!

10 things you may not know about me

One. I have a fear of mice.
Laugh all you want, but it is true. I can share multiple stories about my run-ins with mice.

Two. I never mastered the art of roller skating.
Sad, I know.

Three. I am addicted to Chaco sandals (and the Chaco tan).
This is no secret.

Four. I have two fake teeth.
It is true. This past summer I had two bridges placed in my mouth because two adult teeth never came in.

Five. I have traveled to eight National Parks.
Acadia in Maine, Denali in Alaska, Glacier Bay in Alaska, Glacier in Montana, Grand Canyon in Arizona, Petrified Forest in Arizona, Rocky Mountain in Colorado, and Yellowstone.

Six. I am an only child.

Seven. I came to college planning to become a wildlife biologist.
And now I am a History major (you just never know).

Eight. I love backpacking.
Again, not really a secret.

Nine. I love to wish on 11:11.
I even skipped my Biology class on November 11, 2011 at 11:11 in order to make the most of the moment.

Ten. I own 21 pairs of Smartwool socks.
They last forever.

Connecting

A few Sundays back our pastor gave a sermon on connection. At the tale end of his sermon he outlined six practical steps to connecting with others. I wrote them now for me and for you because when it comes down to it, we can all work on being better people.

1) Identify those who may need your connection.
Although when we're honest with ourselves everyone needs connection. Challenge yourself to find talk with the quiet girl who sits behind you in History, share a smile with the lady at the checkout at the grocery store, make an effort to reach out. 

2) Do not wait for them to act first.
"Always do what you are afraid to do." -Ralph Waldo Emerson  

3) Communicate.
Easier said than done. Start with a smile, then a hello. 

4) Empathize.
No one is perfect, when it comes down to it we all share in the same struggles, pains, and joys.  

5) Listen.
Listen when rearranged makes the word silent. Listen by being silent. 

6) Respond with a gift.
Lunch at their favorite restaurant, homemade cookies, or my personal favorite a handwritten note. 

Every fiber of our being

Since last fall I have been "leading" a Bible Study on campus. I don't like to use the term leader because I not any wiser, smarter, or scholarly than any of the other girls who attend the study. Rather I see myself as the facilitator: sending out the emails, texts, and coordinating time and place. Last semester we worked our way through Hebrews. The idea behind the study is to take a deeper look into a book of the Bible, one chapter at a time. Each week we read the chapter together, then on our own, and then come back together as a group to discuss likes, dislikes, things we found intriguing or confusing.

I fell in love with this idea and have begun implementing the same idea into my personal quiet time. Currently I am weaving my way through 1 Peter. It is taking me some time to get through the book, as there is so much packed into each chapter. I have been breaking chapters down into sections in order to dig a bit deeper.

Today I read from chapter four verses one through eleven. As I basked in the sunshine I found the words hitting me in all the right places. I began jotting down thoughts in my notebook, and here is what I came up with.

First, you need to live for the will of God.
Honestly, I don't know what this looks like. It's something I have wrestled with during these college years. For now I am taking each day as it comes, moment by moment. I am trusting God.

Second, you need to be clear minded and self-controlled "so that you can pray".
Whoa! Two things I know I need to work on, especially when it comes to prayer. I am not clear minded or self-controlled, rather my mind wanders and I begin to think of what else needs to be done. Something for me to work on.

Third, love each other.
Love is the greatest commandment. "As you have heard from the beginning, his command is that you walk in love". -2 John 1: 6

Fourth, do so without grumbling.
How often do you grumble? I think so often we think of kids grumbling at not wanting to clean their room or help wash dishes. But, we all do it in one form or another. "There are two ways each of us can approach life: spending our days meeting our need or looking for ways to meet others' needs. The mystery is what when we spend out life focused on out own needs, we are never satisfied and our deepest needs never seem to be met. But when we pour out our life and focus on how we can serve others, not only do we find incredible fulfillment, but our deepest needs are met as well." -Eric Ludy

Last, SPEAK with the very words of God and SERVE with the strength God provides.
A reminder that God is in every fiber of our being.

I'm a crazy, library loving, college student

Five hours later I find myself slightly ahead on my homework. 

Arriving shortly after two in the afternoon I watched as night fell over the city of Marquette. It brings me to the awareness that I have been sitting in one spot for far too long. It is time to call it a night and bask in the accomplishment of the vast amount of pages read, notes taken, and words typed.

Bits of Kindness

I have this little book called Highlighted in Yellow: A short course in living wisely and choosing well. The very first chapter is on kindness. It lists out thirty four different ways to show kindness on a day to day basis. The end of the chapter offers you a bit of homework to work on in the week ahead.

All thirty four ways are great, and I highly recommend you pick up a copy of the book for yourself.

Here are five of my favorites:

1. Smile a lot. It costs nothing and is beyond price.
"They might not need me, but they might; I'll let my head be just in sight. A smile as small as mine might bePrecisely their necessity." -Emily Dickinson  

2. Call a nursing home or retirement center and ask for a list of the residents who seldom get mail or visitors. Send them a card several times a year. Sign it, "Someone who thinks you are very special".
"Alone and without love we die. Life itself is as dependent on relationships with other as it is on food." -M.N. Beck  

3. Whenever you hear an ambulance siren, say a prayer for the person inside.
"More things are wrought by prater than this world dreams of." -Alfred, Lord Tennyson 

4. Make a habit to do nice things for people who'll never find out.
"That best portion of a good man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love." -William Wordsworth 

5. When going through the checkout line, always ask the cashier how she's doing.
"Nothing is ever lost by courtesy. It is the cheapest of pleasures, costs nothing, and conveys much. It pleases him who gives and him who receives and this, like mercy, is twice blessed." -Erastus Wiman