The Story-Teller

These past few weeks my heart has been heavy as I watch from the sidelines as one of my closest friends battles through the twists and turns that the tragedy of a family death brings about in the heart. She has handled the sadness with grace and wisdom, and I am so proud of her heart.

As I have experienced the past few days through her, my thoughts have shifted to loss. To pain and comfort, life and death.

I have a feeling that at least once in their lifetime, every person has wondered, “Why?”

Why are they gone?

Why is this happening?

Why so soon?

Why so quick?

It may sound strange, but I think that Jesus communicates to us, and that often He does so in ways out of the typical realm—almost as though He’s making sure you really hear what He’s trying to say, so He says it a little differently than He normally would.

I’ve often felt like God communicates to me through stories. Stories resonate deeply within me, and I think it’s because I think of each of our lives as a story woven into a tapestry larger than we will ever understand, all to illustrate a bigger story than our minds could contain. He is the ultimate Story-Teller and Dream-Weaver, and I think the sadness of life and death blends with the joy of it to tell a story of awesome beauty. A story that I think we will be told someday in all of its entirety.

As I witnessed my friend in her love and her grief, I felt that whisper of a story on the edges of my mind as I leaned on my Jesus and asked Him where He was.

I’d been thinking all the normal questions—the why’s and the what for’s when a scene from one of my favorite stories of all time surfaced in my memory.

It’s from the children’s book The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis. For those of you who haven’t read it, the magical kingdom of Narnia had just been discovered by the two children Digory and Polly, who through a series of misadventures, have stumbled into this land as it’s first being sung into existence by Aslan (who C.S. Lewis based on Jesus). They bring with them an evil witch who threatens to corrupt and destroy the brand new world.

After meeting, Aslan speaks with each of the children, especially with Digory (whose mother was near death), for he is the one responsible for bringing the witch out of her world and into Narnia.

The following conversation between the little boy and Aslan is the scene that came into my mind, line by line, as I grieved with my friend:

"Son of Adam," said Aslan. "Are you ready to undo the wrong that you have done to my sweet country of Narnia on the very day of its birth?"

"Well,  I don't see what I can do,"  said  Digory.  "You see, the Queen ran away and -"

"I asked, are you ready?" said the Lion.

"Yes," said Digory. He had had for a second some wild idea of saying "I'll try to help you if you'll promise to help my Mother," but he realized in time that the Lion was not at all the sort of person one could try to make bargains with. But when he had said "Yes," he thought of his Mother, and he thought of the great hopes he had had, and how they were all dying away, and a lump came in his throat and tears in his eyes, and he blurted out:

"But please, please - won't you - can't you give me something that will cure Mother?" Up till then he had been looking at the Lion's great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion's eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory's own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.

"My son, my son," said Aslan. "I know. Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet.”

Maybe you have to read the whole book to really get the beauty of that moment, but as I remembered the story, Jesus spoke to my heart more sweetly through those words than He probably could have through any Bible verse and said: "There. That is where I am. Leaning close to the broken and sharing their sorrow with them in every moment. Staying close because I promised that they will never be forsaken. Never alone." 

I know that it’s true that my God allows life to run its course and end in death, but I also know that He seeks us during our life so that when our eyes close in death, it’s just so we can begin an eternity with Him. I know that He allows death to happen, but I also know that He understands the pain of it, and that He loves each of us more than we can imagine. That when we hurt, so does He, and He offers His hand in strength and comfort if only we will take it.

He is with the dying in their final moments, bringing peace to the ones who know Him, and just as present with those who do not, still whispering to the spirit in His own words that life does not have to end in death if only they’ll hold on to Him. His love is strong, and I don't think He ever stops asking for His children to be reconciled with Him, not even at the very end. You see, He is the great Bridge-Builder in life and death, and for those of us who cling to Him a bridge is built into eternity, and the chasm between life and death forever defeated. How lucky are the ones who come to know and trust that early in life.

I was blessed to watch my friend cling to the hand He offered, and know that as a result she feels the peace and the blessing of the beautiful life her loved one lived.  I see her and I know that the grief she faces is more for the ones left behind than it is for her beloved family member who today is rejoicing in paradise. It will not crush her, because it is a grief whose root grows from hope. From hope and joy and love, and a very sweet knowledge that there is more to life than death, and soon, we will be reunited and there will be no tears.

Flower Beauty

If you know me, you know I love make-up.

Now, I'm not saying that I paste it on, because I don't, and I'm not saying that I never leave the house without it, because I do.

But as much as I love adventures and mischief and getting into trouble (in the best ways possible), I also love all things girly-- sparkles and high heels and smelling nice and pretty things and makeup.

On occasion, I have even been known to spend  a whopping $34 on a single tube of Yves St. Laurent lipstick, which I love dearly and am happy to use on special occasions, but which is not exactly practical or cost efficient for daily use. In order to give my bank account a break, an epic search for a brand of makeup that looks pretty and is reasonably priced began. Mostly I just bought a bunch of cheap, crappy makeup and got closer and closer to resigning myself to spending way too much money on something as unimportant as the shade of my lip tint.

Imagine my delight when I discovered Flower Beauty, Drew Barrymore's line of makeup sold only at Walmart.

I don't consider myself a snob, but I tend to turn my nose up at buying makeup from Walmart. However, I initially heard about Flower from a friend of mine who is in the top twenty finalists of girls who hope to become the new face of the make-up line. I figured she was a reliable source and figured I might as well try it out.

I bought the Kiss Stick Velvet Color in Desert Flower and am so pleased with it. It's pretty! It feels nice! It smells good! It stays on! It's cheap!

Though I didn't do more than try out some samples of items like the creme eyeshadow and highlighter chubby, I have a feeling I'll be back to make those purchases in the near future.

Props to you, Drew Barrymore. You did real good.

My new favorite lipstick shade. I love it. 

Lou & Grey

Happy Easter (rather, happy day after Easter) world!

This weekend I not only got to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus with my family, but also with a dear friend who flew into town for the weekend.

We were together from the time we woke up until the time we went to sleep. We had wonderful conversations, spent quality time with friends, laughed, watched movies, ate, and shopped.

My closet's newest addition

It was lovely.

One of the stops we made during our day together was at Loft, where I rediscovered an old love of mine—Lou & Grey.

I couldn't resist posting some pictures of the comfortable, soft, loungey clothes that Lou and & Grey designs so masterfully.

I can’t help but imagine myself in a quiet mountain cabin or lounging in front of a beach campfire when I try on their sweaters. 

Here are some pictures of some of my favorite pieces.

Enjoy!

Home Sweet Home

I write this as I sit on a back porch swing, gazing out across gardens that are full of azalea blooms, ferns and dogwood blossoms. The gardens end where the lake begins, and my view ends with the forest beyond, though I know that behind the forest farmland begins-- rolling green hills full of tall grasses, bales of hay, and the occasional livestock.

A family of purple martins lives in a birdhouse by the lake, and their songs are mingling with a dozen other melodies. The sun is shining and a breeze is coming in. Chopped wood is piled up next to the water, ready to be burnt should one decide to make use of the chiminea.

It's spring in Tyler, Texas, where I am now a resident. I am back at home, and it is good.

There are so many things that I could write about right now. How I had my misgivings about leaving California, how quickly those disappeared and how happy these first few days in Texas have been, all the reasons that Spring is my favorite season.... I could seriously go on and on with a million different thoughts that are in my head.

I think that what I will start with though, is the journey that took me from the beaches of Southern California to the rolling farmlands and green forests of East Texas. I mean that literally-- this time last week I was packing up every last minute thing I could think of, and was preparing to pick my dad up from the airport so that the road trip from Laguna Niguel to Tyler  could begin.

First of all, I just have to brag on my dad for a minute. If I was in charge of awarding a Father of the Year medal, he would get it. The older I get the more I realize that as far as fathers go, I have been truly blessed. There's not many men who would jump on a plane after a day of meetings and fly across the country just so that they could be crammed into a Camry loaded down with every item their daughter owns, and then proceed to drive for three days just to get back home. I mean, come one. It's ridiculous.

However crazy, that's exactly what my dad did, and I am so grateful for it. We drove for hours and hours and hours, and while I can't deny that driving that long was tiring and uncomfortable, I can say that getting the opportunity to talk with each other for so long more than made up for it. Do you ever notice how the experiences that are so draining at the time end up being the ones that you draw the best memories from?

Even in my most tired, sore, grouchy moments, I was grateful to have my dad there. It was good to simply be together, to talk about whatever random thing came into our minds, to discuss the history of the seemingly barren, empty deserts that we drove through, to ask questions and to answer questions. I wish that all of my siblings and friends could have that kind of time with their fathers, though I'm sure not all of them would appreciate me wishing a thirty hour road trip on them.

We even had the chance to deviate from our route and add a little fun into the driving routine! We stopped and took pictures of cacti taller than both of us combined, we spent one morning in Tombstone, Arizona watching cheesy re-enactments of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday in gunfights with outlaws. We ate entirely too much fast food and coffee, and kept each other awake when we drove though six hour stretches of nothing but desert.

And at the end of that long weekend of driving, we were finally home. No matter what the circumstances, a three day drive will make you love being home, and it made it all the more sweet as I unpacked my bags and got settled into my old room, where I will be staying for the next three months until it's time to head off to Hawaii.

It almost surprises me how happy and content I am to be here. After so many years, it's good to be home for a while, and to know that I have the time to enjoy my siblings, to catch up with old friends and to make some new ones.

Keeping your heart filled with the spirit of contentment is such a happy place to be...

Welcome home, self!

Whale Watching

Ever since I moved to California almost exactly one year ago, I have wanted to go on a whale watching tour. I know they're cheesy and only for tourists, but I LOVE them.

So, with only one day left in Laguna Niguel, I woke up this morning and drove to Newport Beach. I paid for my ticket, and earned a few pitying glances when I walked on board and it became clear that I was literally the only person in the group of 50 who chose to came alone. It may have been awkward, but after spotting our first gray whale about 2 minutes after we left the harbor, I was much too delighted to notice.

I love whales. I think that they are beautiful and graceful, and that their migrations and relationships are endlessly interesting. While I watched mother and baby breach the water over and over as they swam up the west coast on their way to Alaska, I was able to savor the moment.

I loved that it was a morning to be utterly enjoyed. I loved that a sea lion followed the whales and tried to coax them into playing. I loved that the winds were high and the water was rough, even though it meant we had to return early to the harbor.

I loved that I was able to see a beautiful member of creation. I loved that it was a moment that I was able to enjoy on my own.

I love that even after returning home, my hair still smells like salt water and sea air.

This is one of my favorite pictures because it captures a moment I hope to have someday.


It is a dream of mine (it's high up on my bucket list) to someday swim with whales and this photo lights that dream up inside of me.

Today however, I was completely content to sit back on a boat with excited tourists and their seasick kids and simply witness their beauty.

Mermaid Heart

These last few weeks have been a blur. Extra work opportunities appeared out of nowhere (thank you Lord) and my days have been filled with a combination of the productivity of projects completed at work, and with the happy chaos of packing up a chapter of life in preparation for whatever is next (and oh, how I love to daydream about the “next”).

But before the blur of these past weeks began in earnest, I had a day at the beach that has made its way into this tired girl's dreams as she lays in bed at night resting from another busy day. It was like being picked up from the midst of a busy schedule by a higher power, and plopped straight into a day from 15 years ago on one of my first trips to the ocean-- back when the sea and I first fell in love. Sometimes you have to re-visit what it felt like to be eight years old and at the beach, and a couple weekends ago, I was able to do just that.

The day started out normally enough-- I woke up early for a Saturday, made coffee, grabbed my surfboard, and headed to the beach. I met up with a friend and we paddled out, and spent our time in the waves floating and talking about things that mattered rather trying to catch many waves. We eventually left the water and walked around downtown San Clemente, going in and out of shops to browse and see what there was to see.

I sipped watermelon juice and we walked and talked and it was good. Sometimes there is just nothing like walking around with a friend, feeling salty and rumpled from the sea. Wearing no makeup and not having the slightest desire to impress anyone of anything. All your focus is on sunshine and friendship, and it’s enough.

She eventually left and I met up for brunch with some other friends. We had good coffee and good food and good conversation, and after they left I knew that my day was only just beginning.

I had no desire to do anything but go back to the ocean and lay on the beach, and that is exactly what I did. Thus the best part of my day began. I napped and when I woke up and looked out at the water the first thing I saw was a pod of dolphins coasting up and down the beach and my heart just wanted to laugh at their playfulness and freedom.

I sat and watched and all I could see was a cloudless sky and kids playing in the surf and dolphins swimming and seabirds calling. And in my mind I was all of the sudden a mermaid-- gripped by that playful spirit that inhabits us so fully as children. So, I shunned my surfboard in favor of my boogie board and ran out to play with the rest of the kids (the ones who knew that really, they were mermaids too) and I stayed in the water for hours, just playing and floating and frolicking and feeling right with the world.

There’s something about that feeling of submerging yourself entirely in the ocean, surging forward suddenly so that you’re pulled along with the waves… getting caught in the crest and tumbled around underwater, or being exactly in the perfect spot of the water’s pull and getting lost in the feeling of flying towards the land. Feeling that somehow, you've become part of that wave for one magical second. All you can feel is the tickle of bubbles and seafoam and it is so, so perfect. 

It feels like the heart of a child. 

It feels like eight years old at the beach. 

It feels like the perfect way to say goodbye to my favorite part of California—my friend, the sea.