Divine Imperfections

Five Minute Friday: Tree

Tree

 

Tree, family tree.

 

Like the tiny sapling that lived in front of my childhood home.

 

By high school its branches had reached the roof, and my window. Scaring me some nights as they brushed up against the glass.

 

 

Now when I go home, what was once no more than a twig with a few leaves, is a mighty elm that greets me before the door.

 

It tells me my travels are over.

 

That tree tells me I’m home again.

 

I’ve really grown to love that tree.

 

 

 

Now I think of the large shade tree outside the house I share with my husband.

 

I think of how many generations have lived in this home, and how much that tree must have seen.

 

 

Kids climbing its strong limbs as they stretch up towards the sky.

 

Birds making their own homes in it.

 

They greet me some mornings when I remember to wake up slowly, and sip my coffee, instead of running into the day like a suicide bomber.

 

 

Tree makes me think of the woodgrain pattern I intended to hand-emboss on all 150 of our wedding invitations.

 

How, for weeks, I thought I could do it all myself.

 

And tried.

 

 

I made one invitation, beautifully embossed, before a good friend stepped in.

 

“You just can’t do it by yourself,” she told me. And I wanted to cry with relief ‘cause I knew she was right.

 

 

So I gave up the woodgrain, and was pleasantly surprised how beautiful the simpler version of our invitation was.

 

I wish I’d known then that sweet friend wasn’t just talking about the invitations.

 

 

 

It’s hard to live in a world where we’re dependent on one another.

 

Like vines, like branches, all connected.

 

All tied together.

 

 

 

Some days we want anything but to be linked at the root with these people we call family.

 

We want freedom. Complete independence.

 

We want to be shut off, and separate, from the world.

 

 

But trees remind us of the truth underlying our dysfunctions, and our difficulties with vulnerability, and our pride, which get in the way of being happy at home.

 

Happy in relationship with our significant others, our parents, our brothers, our friends, our siblings, all these people sharing this same planet, this same sod.

 

 

 

They remind us that the only way to be strong, and to weather this world, to survive the cold winters and bring refreshing shade in the spring, to let others enjoy us, and others support us, is to be in this thing.

 

Together.

 

Like all those beautiful trees.

  - 30 - 

 

 

I think the reason I love the fall so much now, is because the autumn air encourages us to live in community. 

Sharing cocoa, sharing blankets, sharing long walks around the park. The very essence of fall is our need to be together.

 

Like I’m mesmerized by how many colors can exist on one single branch of a tree, I’m amazed how much better it feels to go through life with company. 

Thank God for fall, and the seasons that are easy to love.

 

If you're sick of hearing about Five Minute Friday already then I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry. I can't stop singing its praises.

 

Basically a bunch of great ladies (and a few guys) get together every week in cyber world and spend five minutes free writing about a new subject.

The beauty of it is the freedom that comes in shutting up the inner critic and just letting ideas loose.

Some weeks it's the only thing that restores my sanity. 

 

So, as I've said before, even if you're not yet ready to join the community (and let the world see your work; which you really should!) you should still give this exercise a try sometime. 

You never know what you'll get when you do. It could be disgusting, or it could be delicious. (Isn't that what Forrest taught us?)

 

And just like that we're back to trees. :)

Have a blessed weekend friends.

Five Minute Friday: RED

 

Loving him was red.

Taylor Swift, who still feels 22.

And, I’m angry.

 

 

Kitchen appliances. Books neglected on the counter.

So much to do. So much left undone.

 

 

Red, like the flashing lights on so many machines. 

Machines pumping fluids. Machines removing fluids.

 

And on her cheeks, while hooked up to all those monstrocities.  

They’re doing the things a body should.

Things her body was able to do, just hours before.

 

But now she lies there, paralyzed not by circumstance but by fear of the pain. 

With flushed cheeks, and strained movements, and a fear in her eyes I’ve never seen before.

 

Red.

 

Why God? She loves you.

 

Never has a woman loved you more.

 

She talks about you, with the nurses, with her guests.

She talks about you, and your will being done, and how you have the power to heal, but that she’ll accept whatever lot in life you give her.

 

Right now her lot is a mechanized bed, one filled with scratchy sheets, and so many tubes, and she doesn’t have to say it.

I can see in her face she’s angry.

Still, she praises you.

 

That one little fall could land her here…

 

I'm frustrated for her.

She says she went short on her quiet time the morning it happened.

She blames herself.

 

But I blame you.

 

 

Why God? 

Are you as angry as you seem?

 

So spiteful you would pick on someone already small, and frail?

 

I don’t want to believe it.

I don’t want to feel it.

But I look out the window at a sea of cityscape and back in, to nurses scuttling, and people struggling, and my heart aches.

 

The world is not as it should be.

 

Why, why God, don’t you intervene?

 

 

Please tell me you’re not a vengeful God, that strikes old women down because they prayed for 30 minutes instead of an hour.

 

Tell me you’re not a tyrant, doing as you will, with no regards for all the lives you’ve created, seeming pawns in a cruel cosmic game.

 

Tell me you see her, and hear her faint prayers as she drifts into a medicated sleep.

Tell me you hear me, and the words unspoken, behind my own tears and worries.

 

I am pleading for justice. And mercy.

But most of all for grace.

 

 

And I’m begging you to tell me you’re not at all the God the televangelists have painted you to be.

Nor the meek shepherd hanging on so many wood-planked church walls.

 

Tell me you’re more than the light we’ve seen you in before.

Tell me you’re greater, and gentler, than the Old Testament stories used to bash gays and push political ideologies.

 

Tell me anything, God.

 

Say anything, God.

 

That I might not walk away from another hospital room, so angry with you.

 

- 30 - 

 

I haven't been able to write much lately. And what I have scratched out I've lacked the confidence to post.

I've had a hard time articulating to friends and family how I feel too, so these weekly free-writing exercises have been something of a life-saver, forcing me to examine my thoughts, instead of running from them.

 

I'm thankful they've forced me to ask the questions ever tiptoeing on my tongue, instead of keeping my mouth shut, silently choking on all that is unsaid.

 

This, apparently, is a raw season for me. A season of painfully slow growing and struggling to move forward, out of the stagnant waters I've been wading in.

For my praying friends, I hope you'll keep me in yours, and more importantly my family as my grandmother - ever a fighter! - begins rehabilitation after a hip replacement surgery. 

 

It's gonna be a strange, winding road. But I hope to share it with you.

Not all of it, mind you, but just enough that those of you on the same dark path might know you're not alone.

 

My dad, very subtly, left a book for me this morning. 

The chapter titles weren't appealing, but one did catch my eye.

 

Chapter Twelve: The Wisdom of God.

 

I'm still digesting what it said, but I'll leave you with the words that jumped out at me as I had my daily cup this morning.

 

"Wisdom, among other things, is the ability to devise perfect ends and to achieve those ends by the most perfect means. It sees the end from the beginning, so there can be no need to guess or conjecture. Wisdom sees everything in focus, each in proper relation to all, and is thus able to work toward predestined goals with flawless precision.

All God's acts are done in perfect wisdom, first for His own glory, and then for the highest good of the greatest number for the longest time. And all his acts are as pure as they are wise, and as good as they are wise and pure. Not only could His acts not be better done: a better way to do them could not be imagined. An infinitely wise God must work in a manner not to be improved upon by finite creatures."

- A.W. Tozer, The Knowledge of the Holy (italics mine)

 

 

 

Life Lately: A Few Thousand Words

 

Life is busy. Life is good. 

 

I've been brainstorming, and tackling to-do lists, and getting older.

I've been enjoying time at home, and traveling to places near and not-so-far.

 

I've been planting plants.

And drinking copious amounts of coffee.

And falling in love with my camera all over again (and one cute puppy face too).

 

 

I've been wearing dresses, all my dresses. (And maybe adding a few more to the closet thanks to Target's pretty clearance section.)

 

And I've been doodling. And staying up late.

And gearing up for an upcoming wedding.

And seeing family. And appreciating Skype.

And spring.

 And I've been wondering where to go from here.

What to do from here.

 

I've reached a crossroads of sort. (Insert Bone Thugs-N-Harmony joke here.)

 

 

I still don't know the answers, only that lately, here feels like a fresh start.

A chance to start anew.

An opportunity, a challenge, to make this year the best year yet.

 

 

 

Here's to hoping, and dreaming, and wishing and praying and...

Happy thoughts about another wonderful weekend that's so close I can almost taste it.

 

Music Memory: Love is a Mixtape

Leading up to Valentine’s Day my sister posted photos of a special project she was working on.

I didn’t know what at the time, only that it involved cassette tapes of all things.

 

It turns out her not-so-top-secret project was actually a gift for me, and a very thoughtful one at that.

She created two mixed tapes for me to rock out to while driving (the vintage Jeep).

 

One was a quirky combination of songs – some we’d heard together live, others she thought I’d like.

The second was The Lumineers, who'd been blowing up my Pandora, and that I already liked a lot.

 

It turns out the “album” was even better than expected.

And I love that my baby sister (who I helped find cassettes to rock out to when she drove the same Jeep in high school) is now supplying me with tunes fit for rolling the windows down.

Classy Girls, Stubborn Love and Flapper Girl are among my favorites.

If you like sort of folky music, it’s an all-around great CD/cassette. (I ended up purchasing the album on iTunes for good measure.)

 

My favorite though is Dead Sea.

I’m just blown away that genius writers can make something with such a sad name seem romantic.

 

 

Happy Monday friends.

May good tunes make today fly by.

 

(If you'd like cassette-inspired gift ideas make sure to check out my follow-up post.)

Weekend Update: Paper Chase

Summed up in a word, this weekend came down to...

Paper!!!

(Michael Scott would be so proud.)

 

Friday, we had dinner from a paper bag. (Judge as needed.)

Then I opted to stay home in an attempt to tackle the paper clutter taking over my life lately.

 

It wasn't a complete success (by any means) but it was a start.

Here's the before. (After, there was a bed under there.)

Saturday we killed time waiting for food at a birthday party by doodling and playing hangman. 

Always good fun in my book (pun intended).

Then we got home and continued the paper fun by destroying the kitchen breaking out the craft supplies.

Hello embossing gun; I missed you good fella.

And dinner? It arrived in a paper box, with pepperoni. ;)

 

Sunday we slept in finally (ahhhh!) and then enjoyed lunch (and a Mark Cuban sighting) in uptown.

 

Avocado fries = a revelation!

 
That was followed up by superfluous note taking at evening church. (What can I say, but old habits die hard.)

 

And then... there was more pizza. And cuddling on the couch. And laundry.

All the stuff that goes into mentally preparing for another Monday.

 

Pretty simple, right? As far as weekends go.

It was actually really nice, and exactly what we needed.

 

Low-key. Relaxing. Not plastic.

 

Here's starting the countdown to this Friday.

Related articles

Weekend Update: A Nearly Wordless Wednesday Post

Weekend Update: A Date With Destiny

Weekend Update: Hangin' with our Homies

We're so close to this weekend I can almost taste it.

In the meantime, here's a quick look at what we were up to eight days ago.

 

Hope it helps you get through those last two long work days.

You already know the hubs had a concert this past Saturday, in my hometown of all places. That was super fun.

But what you don't know is how we killed the rest of our weekend.

And boy did we kill it. (That's still a good thing, right?)

 

Here we go!

 

There are no pictures from work last Friday (imagine that!), but I did capture one quick snapshot of my remaining plant babies before we left home.

(So far this spring I've literally killed a cilantro, a rosemary and a basil plant - or two. And... the season is young yet. :/

I have increasingly low hopes, even for the cacti, hence the picture.)

 

Saturday "the boys" and I walked to the nearest (only) coffee shop in town, where they were spotted, which was pretty cool.

 

"Are you that band?" a stranger asked.

 

Why yes, they are that band. :) You know, the one band.

 

Thanks to last-minute packing I spent Saturday afternoon frantically hitting up four-stores trying to hunt down any remaining sweatshirts in Texas.

Eventually success was found at Kohl's.

But really the whole trip was fun, thanks to very good company. (Old friends are the best!)

 

Saturday night after the concert (our first selling shirts by the way - thanks everyone that purchased one!) Mikael and I celebrated the way we usually do after a show.

By eating our weight in Whataburger. (So many regrets. :) )

 

Sunday we spent the day recouping from our wild, crazy weekend (mostly the Whataburger) by leaving the house only once, for a lunch break with our cousins.

This time, we went vegan. Only, because I'm me, I ordered the least healthy options I could find.

 
A white sausage covered burrito, AND a cookies and cream shake (made with almond milk)?

Yup; they were delicious.

And the trip was fun, as always.

 

I've never lived close to my cousins, so it was great inheriting awesome ones through Mikael.

 

And that was last weekend in words.

But I know what you really want is more pictures.

 

So, here's Teddy (my favorite puppy nephew) helping me blog.

I'm thinking he's the cutest assistant I ever did see. 

While we were up to that, what were you guys doing this weekend? Anything fun?

More importantly...

 

What are your big plans come Friday?

 

Related articles

Weekend Update: A Conference, A Concert, and Plenty of Coffee

Weekend Update: A Fresh Feeling

Weekend Update: A Birthday Bash and Band Practice

Go...

Usually he stands there, begging with his irresistible puppy eyes.

"Play with me," he's screaming, without making a sound.

Well sometimes there's a high-pitched yip/shriek/awful noise. But mostly it's silent, persistent begging.

 

And he knows the powers of his persuasion.

So he waits confidently, with baited (stinky) dog breath. 

He waits until he hears the signal, the metaphorical gun shot in the air.

 

He waits, for the ball to drop.

And then he's off like a flash.

To fetch his most coveted toy in the world.

 

But this time is different.

For once, he doesn't wait for the crash.

 

Instead he trusts that I'll do exactly what I always do, when faced with his sweet puppy dog eyes.

And he takes off, in excited anticipation.

Determined to find his trusty, yellow ball.

 

Nothing will stop him. And nothing will slow him down.

He's a man on a mission.

 

He proudly brings it back, like he always does.

Dropping the slobbery thing at my feet.

 

That signals it's time to start again. And again.

"Oh the fun we'll have," he says. (They're very expressive eyes.)

 

Oh the joys of fetch. 

And oh, the faith of a dog.

 

Especially one who's only ever known loyal companions.

Faithful friends that are always up for a good game.

 

He's awfully adorable, this puppy nephew of mine.

But he's also a breath of fresh air, in a world full of cynics and skeptics.

 

Most of the people I know have been let down or burned a time or two, or two hundred.

We all have reasons for hesitating like we do.

 

There are reasons (some good) behind much of our mistrust.

There is logic behind many of our fears.

 

But my puppy nephew reminds me that you can't always wait for the ball to drop to take action.

Sometimes, you've just got to go for it. 

Taco Tuesday: An Oldie But a Goodie

I really like tradition, and alliteration. Have you picked up on that?

 

In that spirit I thought I'd share an oldie but a goody today, one of my favorite go-to tacos.

 

The Jack-in-the-Box two-for-a-dollar taco.

Way better than should be legal makes any sense.

 

When I first saw my mom eat a fried-lettuce-filled taco I thought she was crazy (and told her so; what a great teen I was).

But then I turned twenty, and I've been hooked ever since.

 

There's just something so craveable about a little bit of mystery "meat," fried veggies and a leaky, greasy taco shell.

 

 

Hope you're having a good, (possibly healthy) Taco Tuesday friends.

Five Minute Friday - HOME

HOME

 

I used to think home was the three bedroom home I grew up in, the one with the converted garage to give each of us kids our very own room.

 

But then I left for college, and experienced freedom for the first time. Sure I had a rubber duck themed bathroom, but I was an adult. I had bills. I was free. (HA.)

 

 

When I finally moved back to my parent’s house I missed all the creature comforts I had enjoyed out on my own.

 

I missed my own sparsely filled fridge. I missed my knick knacks, my kitchen towels. All these tiny things that made me feel independent, that made my tiny apartment feel like my home.

 

I traded them in for a roof over my head, and one of those bedrooms I’d grown up in.

But suddenly that house seemed smaller than before, still it offered security I needed in uncertain times.  

It came with a support system I needed, as I navigated my early twenties.

 A few years later I left again.

 

And as soon as the boxes were unloaded I excitedly hung art and organized my cabinets. I picked a new shower curtain and bedding to reflect my changing tastes.

 

I felt settled. I was thrilled to be back on my own.

 

Until…

 

I missed my family’s company.

 

I missed people to laugh with at our favorite shows, to talk to after a hard day, to drink coffee with when I woke up.

 

I missed, love, what really makes a home. I missed sharing my life and space, even if it meant having a ridiculously crowded fridge.

 

 

 

My husband and I were only married five months before we decided to move.

 

Without jobs lined up, or a new apartment in a new city, we moved in with family.

 

And that was hard. Incredibly hard.

 

 

Once again I missed tiny things that had made our apartment feel special.

 

The dishes our friends gave us as wedding gifts. The tiny silver bells they rang at our first kiss.

 

Putting them in storage crushed my heart a little, even though they were just things.

They represented freedom, a fresh start, our beautiful beginning.

 

Boxes, and boxes, tightly sealed in grey duct tape represented a time of waiting. Another season of uncertainty. A blank slate stretched out indefinitely before us.

 

A giant question mark on our calendar, our timeline.

 

- - - - -

 

As the months have passed the grip those things have on me has lessened. I still miss them sometimes, my blue canning jars and our good colander.

 

But my heart is accepting a truth that can’t be boxed away.

 

I’m learning that home is what we take with us. Something thieves and rust and poor packing cannot destroy.

 

Home is internal. It’s what the Israelites took with them when they left Egypt, and what we took with us when we left Waco.

 

It’s what we keep with us even now, with the boxes in storage, and the future still unclear.

 

It’s peace that surpasses understanding and the promise of brighter days ahead.

 

It’s love that fills our days with laughter, and community, and coffee, shared.

 

It is life shared, under one roof, wherever that is.

 

 

HOME



 

Last week I discovered a lovely community of writers that participate in five minutes of free writing each Friday, each week with a different prompt, today's obviously being "Home."

You already know I LOVE alliteration, so I really couldn't help but participate in this great idea, FiveMinuteFriday.

 

Only I'm new to this "free writing" thing, and a very bad creature of habit, so I cheated a little.

The italicized words above (and everything after the dashed line) were added or edited after my five minutes was up. For goodness sake I felt like I should 'fess up to that.

Thanks for grace as I learn to self-edit a little less, and to trust my heart and typing hands a little more. :)

For Better or Worse, and Even Really Awkward Marriage Conferences

Here we are, at the very start. Bright-eyed & with no idea what we were getting into. ;)

A few weeks ago Mikael and I spent about six hours at a marriage conference in Allen.

Though we each had our reservations about saying “yes,” we agreed to go at my parents’ recommendation.

 

I grew up thinking all marriages must be really easy – that’s how my parents made it look (those of you that know them can attest to this). But as a newlywed myself, my parents let me in on a secret - they actually put a lot of work into it.

One way they said they make their relationship work is by taking part in as many “learning opportunities” as they can.

So, my husband of a year and I heeded their advice and said a hesitant “yes” to the conference, a chance to learn as a couple (plus "yes" to the free hotel stay that went with it; that which was much easier to agree to).

 

Unfortunately we had a few weeks for our nerves to build up before actually attending the conference.

Would we be packed in a room with strangers (plus my parents, and a dozen couples from their church)?

Would we have to breakout into sessions without each other?

Would we be the youngest people there by several decades?

Would we leave feeling worse than when we got there?

Would they convince us we were actually wrong for each other? Toxic, like a Brittany Spears song/relationship?

By the time Friday came we were both on edge and frazzled.

It’s no wonder, really, that we had a pretty intense fight before leaving the house that day.

 

In fact, when we checked into the hotel we had once been so excited to stay at, the grandeur of the fine accommodations was lost on us.

We were still pretty sore with one another, and obnoxiously loud Abba playing in the elevator on the way up to our room didn’t help.


As much as I wanted the fancy suite, complete with Neutrogena travel toiletries, flatscreen and a full-sized Hershey bar, to magically end our squabble, or at least diminish our anxiety, alas… it did not.

Instead we continued exchanging cross words, and feeling miserable that we’d ever agreed to attend the conference in the first place.

 

And we felt this way all the way to the conference, which, very much like our predictions, did involve a large room filled with name-tagged couples, most of which looked a lot happier at that juncture than us.

 

There we were. Tear-stained newlyweds, barely talking, in a sanctuary filled with handholding couples straight out of a life insurance commercial.

We weren’t excited to be there.
We did not have high hopes.
We didn’t even like each other at that moment.

 

We wanted to be anywhere else but there. Most importantly we wanted time apart.

 

Still, we showed up. Reluctantly. Together.

And I’m so glad we did.

 

From the start the speaker spent most of the time talking about the differences between men and women.

 

And I know this sounds like “no duh” territory.

But for me at least, it really was beneficial.

 

Over and over the speaker used the phrase, “not wrong, just different.”

And it was through that lens that he shared humorous stories, sociological research and Scripture, all pointing to the idea that couples are brought together to strengthen and to complement one another.

 

And I liked that message a lot.

(I desperately needed to hear it.)

 

As an adult, as a wife, as a Christian, I’ve come to believe strongly that marriage was not made for people to live hunky-dory happily ever after, the way I thought it was as a kid (one that watched The Little Mermaid a few too many times).

Instead I choose to believe, and trust, that marriage was created to make life richer, fuller, and ultimately better, by allowing people to share it.

 

Their days. Their dreams. Their lives.

Messily. Majestically. Intertwined.

 

 

And what I took from the conference was just that - an expert, well-spoken survey of how our differences make us stronger…

Reinforcement that relationships were never meant to be easy. But also that they’re important.

 

All of life boils down to relationship.

With one another. With Creator God. With the people we share this planet with, especially the one we share a bed with.

 

 

And I don’t want to sound like I’m on a soapbox here.

In fact, Mikael and I agreed months ago that we’d try very hard not to share too much, and especially not to give advice about relationships, seeing as we’re still very much starting out ourselves.

 

We’re far from perfect. We’ve got tons to learn.

Plus it’s dangerous territory sticking your neck out like this.

 

We agreed our 40^th anniversary would be a good time to start explaining how we made things work, assuming we make it to 40 (if the hotdogs don’t do me in before then).

 

But…

 

I felt like this is one good exception to that rule…

Because what I’m sharing is advice carefully curated from other people’s research, careful study, and hard-earned wisdom, not my own…

And also because it’s important, what with relationships being what life is created around and all…

It seems good to share this information, even if it is abridged, and with a little personal history thrown in just for kicks (with approval from my hubby).

 

 

I hope just hearing this tiny bit will give you a bit more appreciation for your S.O. (Significant Other’s) unique traits.

I hope “not wrong, just different” will prove an argument diffuser the way it has around here.

Mostly I hope that you’ll be reminded how the best things in life require a bit more effort, but are way more than worth it in the end.

 

With or without the chocolate incentive… like that Hershey’s bar waiting for us after a long day of learning...

The best things aren't things at all. They are people committed to sharing life with you.

#TeamAguilar for the win.