reflections on a park bench in the 52 degrees February sun

“Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.” ― Frederick Buechner, Now and Then: A Memoir of Vocation

Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just getting by.
Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just being happy.
Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just me.

I'm thankful for the beauty around me, inside of me, running through me.
I'm thankful for my breath, for the capabilities of my mind, for the capacity for change and growth and transformation.
I'm thankful that God made us beautiful.

Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just getting by.
Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just being happy.
Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just me.

a blog is for blogging

i am the Queen of Unfinished Projects. 
crown me, put me on the face of a coin, but whatever you do-- do not dethrone me.


today, however, i did finish one project: belated spring cleaning. i went through bags and boxes of belongings in my apartment and pared them down to three boxes (plus clothes). impressed? i know, don't make me blush any more than i already am. i rewarded my new Minimalist self with a pat on the back, some peach caffeine-free diet coke (who knew that existed, right?), a black bean burger (yum) and a viewing of His Girl Friday, a 1940s flick with Cary Grant in it. he's so classy.


most peoples' to-do lists probably consist of time-sensitive items: check-offable, contained, and quickly completed. my to-do lists are more abstract than concrete, more long-standing projects than quick checks. overarching, really. books i need to read. art projects i want to construct. letters i want to write. conversations to have. places to frolic. to some, this way of prioritizing may seem irresponsible, naive, fruitless. and maybe it is.


so, you see, all this makes me Queen.


a slight concession:
at this point in a post, my counterintuitive gushing usually propels me to make sense of the mess in my head, or else i risk staying still and never getting over the hump. sometimes that's why i blog: it helps me process things. historically, i'd feel it incumbent upon me at this "tipping point" moment to break out a killer quote by a super intelligent thinker, one that lends logic to my ridiculous verbiage and lays out a solid plan for rectification and action. after all, that's what the tipping point, any tipping point, requires--- does it not? you know, the conclusion: that ribbon on the package, the neat and tidy argument, the words that wrap it all up nice and pretty and make a series of inconsequential events important. 


but i can't do that, not this time. 
i can't quote another thinker, and i can't go any further.


but the thing is, i'm not stuck.
or down.
or out.


i'm ready.


i'm ready for adventure. you know, that adventure on the horizon. the one that's getting closer and closer though still all i can see is a shadow of a figure.


i'm ready for the hands of Time to tick right and tick left; counter clockwise, or not. either way they go they have no hold. life moves along, as it always has and always will. to-do's will fall into place. they'll find their way onto my calendar, and i'll find my way in a world i've come to love so dearly. all the while, i'll walk on-- knowing that now, i'm living just a prelude, an introductory movement, an overture. i'll walk on, smiling throughout the glorious prelude and into a life yet to come.


for now, i'll rejoice in the Unfinished Projects, because i'm learning i am just that: 

i am an unfinished project.

beautifully unrefined, originally crafted, and in due course, completed after years and years of pressure and shaping and molding. 

when i forget that i'm unfinished, i get caught up in the to-do's. i find myself believing satan's lies that i'm not productive enough, not solid enough, not focused enough. the worst days i have are the ones when i forget that the purpose of life is not in the living, but the dying. it's ironic, right? Christ died for me, and i live in Him only because i die to self. remembering that integral component of His holiness brings me more liberation than i ever could have imagined. 


i've hidden behind needless productivity, behind emotional stress or final papers or powerplays and pursuits. i've hidden behind those trivial to-do's.
ah, so pasé. 


modified to-do list, in no particular order and subject to change, for the new Minimalist in me:  


hike Old Rag, Half Dome
make redred
sleep under the stars
go to the moon
get a job
Bob Ross day
get pilot's license 
graduate
climb a tree
call mom




yours sincerely,
meredith

mental pictures of everything

some days have proven themselves better than others, but certain moments of every day go by unnoticed. today we spent the majority of time working with the organization we've all come to love dearly, sisters4sisters. shortly after, our team of 11 embarked upon a hike at dusk, facilitated by a full moon and the light of my headlamp. ryan and i hiked it last year, so we knew that the hike was strenuous. i think we failed to communicate that to our team as well as we should have, however. oops. a couple of them really hated us for a while until they got to the top and saw the beauty for themselves. it's an unbelievably fast ascent-- 2195 feet in no time.

lion's head is worth it though. it's part of table mountain national park, so the experience is one of a kind and the view atop takes your breath away, even if you're not a nature person at heart. if you ever go, make sure to take food. food makes everything better. at the top, i ate the pesto sandwich i had patiently, and somewhat painstakingly, saved for that very moment. also, random, but... i also partook of a bite of hamburger from a very nice lady. yep that's right, da burger. (some lady brought burgers and wine to the top for a picnic. i would be scared to drink wine and then go down a mountain like that. i would die, this i know for sure.)

all i could think as the sun set over the vast ocean was how creative god is. we think WE are creative? where do we think we get it from, that's my question to the world. it emanates from the Creator. this is just a drop in the bucket of the works he's created. tonight, god brought me and 10 of my dearest friends to that very place, to see that very specific sun set at that very specific moment. it made my head spin thinking about other moments like these that i've let slip by, unnoticed. no more. i'm gonna notice everything. watch out, world.

the colors faded in and out, from rich, dark blue to golden yellow with a neutral grey situated in between either extreme-- just like i learned in art class, by painting the color scales. nature is the best artistry out there. and the moon-- oh! so bright. we've been able to see it by day and by night the whole time we've been here in south africa, but tonight it was full and uninhibited, graciously hanging in the expansive chromatic display of a sky.

but the most important mental picture i didn't take until we got home. i showered and went outside in the backyard to journal and let my hair dry in the breeze. as i wrote the word "january" at the top of the page, i began laughing. knowing the january i've known for 21 years, complete with snow and ice and cancelled school days, it clicked that i'm in for an experience like never before in these next few months... in more ways than just this one.

i sit in a chair

full moon and starlit sky

the moon so full it drowns out the stars nearest it,

kind of like it steals all their light as fuel

it harnesses their energy that way

the stars though, they shine on

strong as ever

their formation unfamiliar to me,

but their language still the same

the wind, it blows

not one direction--but all

it whips around my person,

blows my hair and pierces my soul

blows the cuffs of my pants against my feet and my ankles

blows through all fabrics and kisses my skin

i hear it rustling, through the gaps and openings in my earbuds

earbuds that pump The First Days of Spring

just like it is the first time

ever

i can't explain why i'm here, why i'm me and why i was born to parents who love me and care for me and work to give me this sort of opportunity. should i feel guilty? satisfied? undeserving? thankful? motivated? i can't explain any of this, and i can neither explain why my parents and my brothers and friends and the people i met today and yesterday and the day before yesterday cannot experience this very moment. why am i the only one out here in this chair, looking at the moon perfectly situated in the night sky surrounded by stars and wind and natural glory? for some reason, inexplicably so, this mental picture is orchestrated and enjoyed by myself. myself alone. (unless you find it just as beautiful as i do, now that it's out on the interwebs.) 

i'm sure many around the world are gazing at the moon's beauty right now this very second, and perhaps some of them are thinking about it as introspectively as i. ...probably not as introspectively. that's a long shot. meh, you never never know.

regardless, for the moment, i'm content with being overwhelmed by god's love for me: how he gave me breath and painted the skies and numbered the stars and the grains of sand and the number of hairs on my sunburned head. i can't explain, but something within me declares thank you. i love you too.

i sit back, revel, soak, and enjoy alone. the sounds of Noah and the Whale continue, this time a new take on the old favorite "I Have Nothing":

so walk with me
on this new spring morning
i'll walk you till your fears are none
i'm a new baby weeping
i'm the flower you're keeping
that without love will wilt and die

and one last thing-- i'm not really using a camera right now, and i'm not taking pictures at work sites to protect privacy. but if you want to follow scenic adventures, check out http://inkstagram.com/#/users/3033772/photos. that's the best i can do.

and one more thing-- mom, i know you're reading this. hi madre, i love you and i promise i'll send you a large email full with love soon! 

my blog is neither entertaining, light, or saucy. and it's not intended to be.

this water runs to a river.
the river, it runs to an ocean.
and the ocean, it blankets the earth like a carpet the fiercest shade of blue.
the water runs down, closer and closer to the center of the earth.
where the water runs deepest, so does its color.
the fiercest shade of blue.


i turn away from the river, and i turn for home.
i try to navigate my way back, without the river as my guide.
for it is gone.
i see where it used to run.
how the strength of rushing water, after many years of rushing, left its mark on the earth.
i see it dug out a path among the boulders and the trees.
it ran strong and blue and constant,
but now i see no water.






think about the best thing that could possibly ever happen to you.
the best thing.
don't be shy, don't be humble.
go all out.
the best thing.

well imagining that thing happening-- whoa! --except not being happy about it.
being, unintentionally maybe, ungrateful. and looking forward instead to the next best thing.
in other words, imagining completely missing that moment you'd waited for. missing the significance of the best moment your dreams could ever conjure.

that is my worst fear.

i'm reminded time and time again the importance of captivating the moment. being present. living intentionally. and i find peace. and it's beautiful.


peace i leave with you, MY peace i give you. i do not give to you as the world gives. do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. --john 14.27


peace is right here waiting the whole time, because it's what jesus left to me and you. my family, my friends, my greatest musings or dreams or memories-- they cannot sustain me. i am strong and resolved, only through living in christ.

untitled, and appropriately so

the smallest, lamest moments make me laugh. i don't know if that's simply one of my idiosyncrasies, or if maybe every human is like that. although there are those don't laugh at all, for fear of truly living or exposing raw character. 


doesn't laughing at a moment sound nonsensical? wouldn't it make more sense to laugh at a joke?
but moments-- they are so undefined. nonlinear. unpredictable. and perhaps this volatility is what makes them so great.
moments can be good or bad or genuinely hilarious or planned or spontaneous or illuminating or completely earth-shattering.
all this simply screams beauty.


mountains in the rearview mirror, laced with fog
a sunglasses swap
chap stick or food? roommate choses the former
one moment, hugs over cumbersome water glasses
the next, hugs that should never break off... but do
and broken elevator buttons
downtown buildings and unconventional hobbies
cats on grocery store walls
and squiggly clowns
poker and pecans
slow loris, wine, eyeballs


these moments inundate my mind, my stream of consciousness.
and in no particular order and no particular time,
they make me laugh.


















from the cowardice that dares not face new truth,
from the laziness that is contented with half-truth,
from the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth,
Lord, deliver us we pray. amen. 
--prayer from kenya