It's weird when your old life chases you down.  One of my friends and I were talking about this Saturday, because it's easy to say to someone who's in a bad place that they need to get out of the cycle or move on or get new friends or something along those lines, but when it actually comes to it, those are people you're leaving.  And while there's no doubt that it would be better for you to leave, they still get hurt, they don't understand why, and there's rarely any nice way to do it.  

We're both in different positions as to what kind of environment we've tried to move away from, but the moment we step back there the feelings are the same.  And it's so hard to balance, it's like we're torn between two  impossibles, majorly hurting friends you really care about or staying in a place where you can almost feel your soul dying.  How do you handle that?  And the thing is, when you do move away from it, when you build your new life, make new friends, begin finding yourself again, the old friends come back.  They start calling again, they want to hang out, they thought it was just a phase that you're through now because you seem better, happier, then before.  And it's sweet that they care, but you can't go back

Because I'm not whole yet, I'm still in the healing process from all the lies of that place, from the world of striving and "accountability" and performance and law and fear.  I'm learning to live in grace and peace and the unconditional love of God.  I'm learning to not worry about the future, about my shortcomings, about my issues, about my faults, about why I'm here, and to just trust Him with it all.  And it's good, the small little tastes I've had of that old life recently make me feel even more okay and at peace with where I am now.  But how do you say that?  I do still love these friends, but I know that they aren't ready to understand yet.  I wish there was a way I could just say "I'll explain it in heaven" and leave it at that.  Or maybe twenty years from now, if our paths cross again, they'll understand.  

Don't get me wrong, I am so so sorry that they had to get hurt.  I wish there was a way that I could have done what I had to do with out it.  But there wasn't.  We live in a world where people get hurt, where doing the right thing doesn't mean no casualties, and where we see only the smallest part of the picture.  So badly I wish I could apologize for the pain that I caused them, but explain at the same time that I don't regret the choices I made, that they were necessary, though they caused us both pain.  

But it's not the time for that, I think.  Maybe at some point, but I know that we're not ready yet.

Reading... C. S. Lewis.  Just finished Surprised by Joy and it was so good, absolutely delightful.  And I'm currently in Out of the Silent Planet, which is quite different but wonderful as well.  (of course, I mean it's C. S. Lewis!)

I've been planning some sewing projects, drinking lots of earl grey, just watched BBC's Wives and Daughters, and managed some long neglected mending.  The sun is setting later and rising early, in fact it's light out now when I drive to work.  I'll be back at the greenhouse in three weeks and I can hardly wait.

Time has sped by so quickly, it's been over six months now since getting back from camp and my birthday, and while so much has happened and changed it also feels like there's no way we could already be most of the way through February.  It's strange.  And full.  And empty.  And slow.  And much too fast.

 There's been a lot of white lately; snow, yarn, paper, plates, pages, sky... my skin.  But the light is returning, and the temperatures rising, and I think that does something for creative juices.  Last year I was writing like a mad lady and this year it seems to be an art explosion.  It's lovely.

 I don't know if snow glitters anywhere else like it does here.  Since where I live is technically a desert (!) the snow isn't wet and pack-able, instead it's dry and crystal-ly.  Like glitter or sand.   It blows around on the roads, sparkles when the sun shines through it, and coats the trees.

There's so much chaos inside me with applying for scholarships and trying to not wonder about what I'm doing this summer, all while still wondering and praying and doing a smashing job at acting like a sea-saw.  The peace thing isn't easy to maintain.

But then there's the bits of beauty that God slips in, the little wake-up of my worries aren't that important, I will get through, it will be good.  And the beauty is free and present and ready to be absorbed, ready to heal.  Like this fantastic imprint left in the snow as I was walking into the library last week.  Life is still beautiful.  The future irrelevant.

in appreciation of tea

dear God, today
I thank you
for making
tea.

tea,yes,tea

through tea I know, I can feel, quite surely
of your very great
smile
that you are smiling upon
tea-drinking
me.

for the soul feels
warm
after drinking tea,
through drinking tea,
while drinking tea,
...and shoulders relax
...and eyes relax
...and thoughts relax

and thanks to you I remember peace through
a cup
of oh-so-lovely hot
tea.

poem by Clara Ellen, 2013
(a very old photo, from a summer long past)

Peace

There's a peace I've come to know

though my heart and flesh may fail

there's and anchor for my soul

I can say it is well

Thanksgiving weekend my little brother was in a sledding accident.  It was a bad one, and he was flown out that same night for the hospital in Anchorage where we found out his jaw was broken on both sides and he had a skull fracture that went through his sinus as well as back behind his right ear.  That first day where we had no idea how bad his injuries were, was the worst, you can do nothing except sit there and imagine all of the things that could come of something like that.  I'm not going to try to put words to it though, even if I can, because that's not what this is about.  

It's about the peace.

Because there was peace, especially after that first day and the next, when he had his surgery.  He was okay.  And if he hadn't been, we, somehow, would still have been okay.  Not in a fake, "we're fine, it's all good" sort of way, but in the "no really, we're okay." that is said with a smile in your voice, because you can't help but be in wonder of that fact that it's true.  And always the friends who asked we more worried and pitying then we were.  I mean, yes it sucks that his jaw was wired shut for almost two months, but hey, he's ALIVE.  And the fact that he's permanently deaf in his right ear now, doesn't seem like that big of a deal to any of us, even him.  

And then just this Monday my dad was in a car wreck, his truck was totaled, but no one was hurt.  We might not be getting any money from the insurance, and of our other two vehicles only one currently runs, but somehow, there is peace.  

Real.  Peace.

It's true.  And it's crazy.  Almost hourly I'm shocked that it's still there, because it's so unlike anything I've experienced before.

That verse in Philippians came to mind yesterday as I was marveling at this, it's verse 4:7  "Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand.  His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus."  And I thought so this is what that means!  It had been so long of living in anything but peace, that I'd almost quit believing it was possible, and even in the middle of it it's hard to believe.

It's trusting.  It's one day at a time.  It's how we were meant to live, I think.

Photos... So the sweater is one of my fun buys from Anchorage, I just love that color so much. Ah, it gives me thrills.  And the blouse underneath is one of my few garments I've sewn myself!  It really doesn't look that good in most circumstances, but I do like it here.  And those mountains were from our one night in Wasilla.  Such a beautiful view.    

Happy Friday night!

Ever since I read House Like a Lotus I've been on a Madeline L'Engle kick.  And it's been so good.  The perspectives she gives and the questions she asks and the pictures she paints are wonderful.  So the past while has been A Swiftly Tilting Planet, Many Waters, and An Acceptable Time.  I'd like to just share some quotes, as a way to explain.

"For a moment no one spoke.  Then Meg said, "maybe there's hope."

Sandy waved her words away, "Really, Meg, be reasonable."

"Why?  We don't live in a reasonable world.  Nuclear war is not reasonable.  Reason hasn't gotten us anywhere.""  ~ A Swiftly Tilting Planet

"They moved through the time-spinning reaches of a far galaxy.  And he realized that the galaxy itself was part of a mighty orchestra, and each star and planet within the galaxy added its own instrument to the music of the spheres.  As long as the ancient harmonies were sung, the universe would not entirely loose its joy." 

~ A Swiftly Tilting Planet

"Sandy nodded.  His voice came out more normally, "I like the way Tycho Brahe was so in awe of the maker of the heavens that he put on his court robes before going to his telescope." 

"Who told you that?"

"Meg."

"I like that, I really do.""

~Many Waters

Anchorage was lovely, as was the drive.  I hope I can go back soon, but if not it'll be fine, it was just really good to reconnect with a few of my friends.  More pictures will show up through future posts, I didn't take a whole lot, because mostly we were just in shops and I don't like to take pictures in shops.

A friend and I are driving down to Anchorage tomorrow for a fun little weekend vacation and I am extremely excited.  It's going to be primarily shopping, mostly thrift stores if I get my wish (there's only one thrift store here, and while it's good, it is very overpriced), and just lots of fun!  I've been wanting to do something like this for a long time.  We'll be chasing down sunlight, breathing in warmer air, and nestled into the mountains.  Yay, yay, yay!  This is what I've been needing.

Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.  Don't search for answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them.  And the point is to live everything.  Live the question now.  Perhaps then, some day far into the future, you will gradually without noticing it, live your way into the answer. 

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

When I first found that quote I knew it was important and I knew I needed it and I knew it was right, but I couldn't understand it.  Not really.  How could one stand a room locked up with no notion of what's inside?  How can you love the questions without seeing the answer?  But God's helping me get there.  Always lurking in the back of my mind are the questions; what about this summer?  where will I be?  what will I be doing?  who will be with me? but His silent, sliver voice comes "not now, not yet" and the panic can subside.

Now isn't the time, let go, trust.  Over and over and over.  It will happen.  There will be strength enough for what ever is ahead.

I think of loving the question without the answer rather like poetry or wordless music, it holds such an abundance of meaning, you can't discover it all, you can't bleed it dry.  You just have to savor it, like a sunrise or a star-filled sky or a glass of wine.  It can't last forever, and the world might not get better when it ends, but you can soak in the moment as much as you can.  Quit trying to see in the dark and look at the heavens, there is the purpose and the beauty and the healing and the rest that can never be exhausted.

Maybe that's how one lives a question.

I want adventure.  I want to get lost in words and beauty and to find life.  Not money.  I'm so sick of money and worrying about it and thinking about it.  My heart aches for dark starry nights and new air and scents.  And it aches for no reason at all, I often think.  I want to do things and embrace adventures, to grab chances and try things that I've always wanted to do...  but I don't. 

I end up talking with my mom and getting smacked by reality.  "Do you really think you'll be able to afford college by just working this spring?" 

No.  And I don't want to think about it.  Right now I just want to imagine that everything will work out and I'll get my plane ticket and sunshine and excitement.

So I give up.  Yes, I'll work hard.  Yes, I'll wait it out.  Yes, I'll still dream about the chance to fly away... but when?  I don't know.  And that's what's hard.  Not the waiting, just the when.  (Oh, and I love my mom, I really do, she is awesome, this just tends to happen right when I need encouragement, not a douse of cold, metaphorical, water)

I wish the whole world  was summer, and training was free to those who were excited and passionate, instead of back-breaking and bars clanging expensive.  And giving could be extravagant instead of calculating and tax-deductible.  And there was no such thing as statistics and charts and income and debt and credit and trucks breaking down.  And summers could be donated without it ruining your chances of graduating on time or moving out.  I wish there was no such thing as a voice of reason and Mom never felt the need to "be mom" during my wild and completely impractical moments of believing something I want might work out and not take years of boring, joy-killing, depressing, back-breaking labor.  I wish everyone had summer vacation or at least could spend it outside, and I wish people didn't mind the rain so much and would weed or dance in it anyway.  And that plane tickets didn't cost over a thousand dollars not including luggage and that Alaskan summers had stars and the ocean wasn't so far away.  I wish there was no such thing as worry and falling asleep was easy and getting up was exciting.  I wish there was no such thing as cynics or critics.

And I wish we'd all love like we say we should love and that hearts didn't get broken, or if they did the pain would feel beautiful and love would come and quickly heal it.  And I wish there was no such thing as shame or judgment, and that waiting was just as admired as action. 

(There would a photos, but blogger is not letting me!  Gerrr.)

Love isn’t always a two way street.  Sometimes it’s barely even a trail, sometimes you have to help each other up as you fight not to slip back down the steep and muddy way you just came.  Sometimes it’s a rest stop.  And sometimes it’s nothing short of a road side robbery.  And even sometimes it’s just one person, walking on a nice wide wooded path, completely alone.  Sometimes it’s easy.  Sometimes it’s hard.  Sometimes it’s beautiful.  Sometimes it’s bloody.  Sometimes it’s a choice.  Sometimes it happens entirely against your will.  Sometimes it wrecks you and sometimes it heals.  Sometimes it fills your heart to overflowing, and sometimes it leaves it completely dry.  But always, if you let it, it leaves your heart larger then it was before.   Sometimes love gives you everything, and sometimes love means you give everything.