like home

A haven.
With gentle hands and strong arms.
The way he closes doors, quiet. The way he embarks on his days, like a whisper. Soft reserve in lifestyle.Uses his hands when he is describing a concept. Puns are his favorite mode of humor. Yerba Mate drinks are his must-have for each day. Relentless caffeine-addict. Loves his mind to be clear, able to think freely for as long as he wishes, with no obligations taking up his thought-space. Accumulates tools, wires, and random "fix-it", "techie" objects. Spontaneous craft and hobby master. Michael Caine and Mark Whalberg impressions that make me squeal with laughter. Amuses me with his nostalgic affection for the 90's decade. A mind so firm, analytical, and strategic. Revolutionary at heart. Requires freedom and patience to be. Against the grain. The one to always choose the path less-traveled. Closet-poet. Pursuer of fresh avenues of experience. Laissez-faire. Strength of individualism, rooted in Scripture, watered by grace.

 Nolan Thomas. My home and haven during my earthly-journey to glory. The nearest I will get to heaven this side of eternity. A vessel so unlike my own, differences so striking in their contrast. Yet, the resonance of our soul-cry sings in a harmony that we were meant to be. Two wander-lust pilgrims with unrestrained hearts, caught up in a vision for that which lies beyond the blue.

I adore studying my husband when he is caught up in thought, unaware. ;)

from the heart to the pen

I have been getting in touch with my inner "creative muse" as of late.
The "artist" in me has been mostly dormant the past years of my life, aside from a few sporadic splatterings of songs that came from moments of inspiration. This has the pattern of my life for longer than I would like to admit. Inconsistent, undisciplined, lacking focus, and lacking goals. Certainly, I manage to store up many dreams and visions for my life, but they are rarely something I pursue. Why? I don't know. It's easier and sweeter to live in my imagination. In reality, I have invested more of my time into relationships. It has been worth it, every moment. However, as my life has taken a transition into marriage and being a stay-at-home wife, my days have simplified and slow down significantly. As I began to look at all my free time, I imagined all the fruits of my effort that would spring up from this season! And, yet, I have nothing to show for it (well, aside from investing in my husband, which is, naturally, my first and most rewarding passion!). Yes, I prepare meals for the week, keep up on cleaning, stay in touch with friends and family, and I have even done more reading since I have been married. As much as I enjoy being a homemaker, there is still the part of me that is restless and wandering. I need to explore and pursue and travel. It is a very central part of who I am. This is an aspect inherent to my husband and myself. I don't think we could be one of those couples that "settle down" in a nice place for the rest of our lives. We both have this insatiable need to continue exploring and learning. I want to bet that age won't snuff out our fire! Nevertheless, I believe I have digressed from my original topic...
 All this to say, I am beginning to take the first steps towards, not merely achieving dreams and goals in a sort of self-empowering way, but pursuing ambitions that will bring my soul to blossom because they are the very thing that my Abba designed for me to be and to do.

 I have started picking up my guitar this past week, strumming through my originals, and feeling the discouragement of being out of shape. Something I once spent hours and hours, days upon days, year after year with has become more of a chore than a natural skill. I sense my failure before I start, but that is why I can only take one step at a time. And, so, I am strumming again. Shout it from the roof-tops!

 As if one goal wasn't enough, I have had something churning around in my heart for the past two months.A writing project of a personal narrative. I have a story that I need to share and I think this season in my life was crafted for me to get it out on paper. And when I say I have a story, I mean that it is a deeply personal account of events that have transpired in my life. I cannot say anything more about it except that it will not be merely a personal narrative. I want to take it beyond a re-telling of events. I want it to transcend beyond the facts into a pilgrim's travel from glory to glory.
 I'll be honest. I really do not know anything about the writing world. I don't claim to be a writer, although it is something I thoroughly enjoy and find very therapeutic. The thought of possible publishing it is a tad overwhelming at this early stage. I feel intimated by the responsibilities of sharing it with the public. But, I want to share it. I need to share this.
I didn't even know what my writing idea could be classified as until I took it to Google and did some research. Perhaps, it will best be defined in the genre of Creative Nonfiction, as described below:

The defining characteristic of CN (creative nonfiction) is the use of literary techniques to create a sense of artfulness in the language, character development, and story, all of which tends to drive the narrative “inward.” CN work also tends to focus on transformational events in the narrator’s or central character’s life. CN generally seems closer to the truth of the narrator’s experience than other forms of nonfiction, as revealing the narrator’s experience / emotional consequence of the experience often seems the implicit “goal” of the work.
CN sometimes ends up sounding “crafted” or “poetic” however (example: “In an instant, the city was back to its normal self, yawning in the dawn haze,”) to the point where it can be difficult not to question whether a work really reflects what the writer actually felt / experienced or if he/she is more just attempting to showcase a certain brand of writing skills. (source

This is the best description I have found to communicate what I find myself writing.
So, page by page, I am letting it out in the only way that I know how. It's not going to be something intelligently crafted. It is a real-life tale of a long, ever-winding journey from glory to glory. And, it feels like I am learning how to pray for the very first time because this "project" is bringing many of my vulnerabilities to light. In many ways, I am learning anew to trust the Spirit, the wind that blows where it wishes and I know its sounds, but I know not where it will go. But, my Maker cannot and will not lead me astray.
 To end my daily musings, a quotation that beckons further pondering....

To sum it all up, if you want to write, if you want to create, you must be the most sublime fool that God ever turned out and sent rambling.
You must write every single day of your life.
You must read dreadful dumb books and glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next.
You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads.
I wish for you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime.
I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you.
May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories—science fiction or otherwise.
Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.
Ray Bradbury

gem

 I found this gem of a quote yesterday. It reminded me of the post I wrote this past Sunday. :)

There is no such thing as a good day, or a bad day. 

There is only a day of grace. 

And some days the grace of God allows you to enjoy what is happening and some days the grace of God allows you to endure what is happening. 

But don't think about good and bad anymore, just enjoy the grace that is present. 

~ Graham Cooke

day of grace

Does the heart know anything sweeter than to be wrapped up in tears and the arms of its dearest companion?
I whisper a thank you to Abba for this one grace I can see, feel, touch, smell, and kiss today. My husband.
The 3 months of our young marriage has challenged us with the bold sacrifices of Love. And he, my love, becomes, more and more, dear to me. He becomes a closer friend to me. When he holds me near, as more than a lover, and speaks words of heaven over my frame, I am reminded of my origin, who I am in Christ. And when we cry together because this earth is not enough, our soul-hunger begins to ache in unison for heaven. Whoever would of thought that crying was a grace? I do. A gift that we are given to produce when raw emotions rise up from within. That salty taste from the droplets penetrates our lips....a reminder that we are living, breathing creations that feel. A gift that leads us, with anguish, to the throne-room.
 This is our day of grace.