.happy saturday.

Ran into this bud this morning at Chapters.
His dad snapped a pic on his iPhone while we were rocking and emailed it to me. I adore their family- they came over for dinner last week.

So blessed by the babies in this town,
and their parents who are generous enough to share them with me.

.breakfast with breanne.

is anything better than time with dearest friends?

i love this girl so much.
she is so life-giving for me.

.most wonderfully kind.

there's a wideness in God's mercy

like the wideness of the sea

there's a kindness in God's justice

that is more than liberty

there is welcome for the sinner,

and more graces for the good

there is mercy with our Savior

there is healing in God's love...

we've been singing this at church lately.

i love the simplicity...

and the emphasis on His wide, deep mercy;
how He welcomes us.

In the details.

More on my mother.

I missed the last flight of yesterday back to Portland and had to spend one more night at home. It was due to an impressive piece of flakiness on my part, which was frustrating, but all things considered I wasn't too devastated. It had been a quick trip, and staying another night meant that I got to spend some extra time with a couple people I'd been sad not to see more.

My mother drove me to the airport this morning. As context for the following conversation, know that my parents' religious beliefs and mine differ quite a bit. I love and learn so much from the spirit of generosity and kindness which my mother lives her life from. (And I get a kick out of, "You know I love your blog, sweetie, but sometimes you really do write a lot about Jesus.")

As she drove our sleepy selves to the airport for the second time in thirteen hours, we were discussing that it had worked out quite nicely that I got the extra time after all.

I said, "When I got to their house last night, Beck joked that my missing the plane was a God thing.'"
My mom laughed. "You know I don't think God micromanages. But I'm glad you got to see them."
"I know." I yawned. A minute later, "I don't think God micromanages. But one of my favorite Christian beliefs is that he works every thing that happens, even bad stuff, into good somehow."
"Mmhmm."

We pulled up to a gas station. At 4:45 in the morning, music was blaring out of their speakers into the empty parking lot. A woman's voice, "They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot...."

She got out to get gas, I got out to stretch.
"Like it's totally a God thing Joni Mitchell is playing right now."
"I was just having that exact thought!"

*****

("Sorry I'm not chattier this morning, sweetie."
"Mom, it's 4:30 in the morning. It's fine."
"Well actually, it's five."
"I'm giving you an extra half hour of parenting slack. Take it."
"Okay.")

*****

She turned to follow the signs directing her to the Southwest departure terminal.

She reached across the seat to grab my hand.
"I think it was a God thing you had to stay the night. He knew I needed the extra time with you."

Mother.

I'm home maid-of-honoring for the weekend and my mother really, really wanted to spend quality time with me today.

Which, you know, was great just because, yay, quality time is so my love language and I love my mom.

But also.

My mother's version of quality time is:

"Sweetie, PLEASE can we go to REI

so I can buy you lots of things for your camping trip?"

I'm not kidding.

My HNGR self really wants to feel guilty about that,

but my everything-else self kinda thinks I won the parent lottery.

I am fully outfitted in Patagonia everything.

 

(My new Chacos are so.so.so cute. Like I-want-to-be-buried-in-these-shoes-cute. And everyone knows Chacos are the official HNGR footwear, so clearly my HNGR self can calm down.)

Chet.

(Is going to kill me for this post.)

Sometimes I save his one-liners off of gchat. Enjoy the magic of friendship with my favorite computer-scientist.

*******

Me: I'm becoming a nun.
Chet: That's what girls always say until they meet me.

*******

(He curses. I respond with, to be honest, impressed surprise.)
 Chet:  I knew you'd appreciate my turn of language
Chet:  these projects have made it more....colorful.

*******

Chet (about a poster he was working on): It looks pretty sexy. If you think distributed computer systems are sexy.
(He later emails it to me, with the subject line: "Hot, right?").
 

Chet: I pride myself in having MORE of an eye for design than the average engineer... which is not saying much.

*******

me: comparison is the thief of joy. 

Chet: except if you're on top.

*******

Chet:  emily, i'm trying to work on a project thats due at 7

I can't let you probe too much now

*******

Chet:  you overanalyze (have we talked about this?)

*******

(I start the conversation with:)

me: jesus spoke to me today

it was sweet

gotta run though

Chet: how?

thanks a lot... tell me god spoke to you then run away

*******

Chet: yes, you have to buy tickets RIGHT NOW!!!!

unbelievable

you need to breaaaaatthe

  *******
(On whether or not pinterest is solely for women:)
 

Chet: Have you seen my pins?

Chet: Pure masculinity.

*******

me: "Jesus did not die and rise for you so that you would stress out about whether you're being spiritual enough."

Chet: Word!

*******

Chet:  you are excellent at many things.

though I do I hope whoever you marry will help fill the 'calm' role.

*******

me (in regards to when in july we should go camping): so what are you thinking for dates?

Chet: still single

me: hilarious.

Chet: I was thinking dinner and a movie

me: mmhmm.

*******

Chet:  so we pranked the girls house again

(I told you about the chicken, right?)

 me:  um

noooo

 Chet:  Ok well last semester we put a rooster in their house at 4am

and it did its thing in the morning

and woke everyone up

 me:  HAHAHAHAHAHA

where the freak did you get a rooster

 Chet:  some person on craigslist was selling it because it was biting the children

hehe

*******

Email with the subject line: "This reminded me of us."

(Remember last year?)

*******

 Email to our friends:

"I got to see Em briefly this week.  Not much has changed (see attached)."

with this picture:

(While it was being taken: "Oohhkay... Are you seriously making that face? Do you know how many pictures I have of you making that face... unbelievable.")

*******

I am so glad I am friends with this kid.

.friends who bring flowers when they come for dinner are lovely.

.Whose not what.

We went for a walk. It started as just me, but then He came.

*******

While it was still just me: as I headed out, tension flowed out of me and gratitude flowed in. As I took in the pine-scented air, the huge sky, the massive moving clouds, the beautiful trees pointing up.

I breathed in relief at the perfection, the real-ness, of this moment. This evening under the deepening sky, this walk through my town. Down familiar streets, next to familiar woods. I relaxed into my body's movement; I gave thanks for beauty.

*******

There's a list on my wall I made a couple weeks ago. I've been adding to it. "Take Joy", it says in colorful, sweeping script. On it I've written those things I find "life-giving". Choices to remind myself to make, in hopes that they will add up to the life I want: a life of space and depth and prayer, of connection and meaning and play. To be the person I want to be: both a pursuer and a product of... space and depth and prayer, connection and meaning and play.

*******

He said, it's good that you chose to go for a walk.

It's good that you're moving. It's good that you love looking at this scenery, this sky, these trees.

It's good that you love where you live and your roots are growing into a place.

But remember, that is not what's most important.

You are mine.

Separate from those things.

*******

We kept walking, and I looked over the week in thankfulness: the events, the connections, the joy, the laughter.

It's good that you are trying to create magic in your daily life, for yourself and for others.

It's good that you love noticing and making beautiful spaces.

But remember, that is not what's most important.

You are mine.

Separate from those things.

*******

That is how I want to live and I am not about to stop. These gifts and these choices, I think, provide the structure to help me see Him, and to help me love them.

But they are not what give me life.

If I were not in Newberg. If I were not studying psychology. If I were not in this church, in this community, in this town.

If I were not under this sky, if I were not looking at these trees, if I were not breathing in this pine-scented air over these vineyards.

If I were not appreciative and in awe, of these things.

If I didn't make my cohort laugh, if I didn't read to kids and hold babies, if I wasn't on the Sunday school schedule. If I never know how to speak to her heart, if they never smile when I walk in.

...I would have life.

And I would still be His.

*******
And His voice is tender in its comfort, as He reminds and reassures.

Because this life and this girl, what they are, will change.

But Whose they are will not.

*******

...That's what He said.

And all my learning heart can think, in gratitude:

He is so gracious to speak to me.

*******

"This is what makes us content-

the contented, deep joy is always in the touching of Christ-

in whatever skin He comes to us in."

-Ann Voskamp

.books.

I take totally disproportionate joy
in having my books arranged by color.

 

I love books, I love color,

and I love the extra something-beautiful.

I love my life.

I got to have a squirmy, happy, beautiful just-turned-eight-year-old sitting curled up in my lap through much of the church service today. She was absorbed in drawing and writing in my journal, tongue out in concentration as she pressed down hard with the pen. When the sermon started she handed me this and whispered, "Don't forget to write back!".

When we can live next door.

Recently I observed the following interaction between two people's Twitters (yeah, I was on Twitter briefly. It has since been deleted. Too much stimulation for this girl's ADD brain.).

One friend commented on missing the other- something along the lines of "You live too far away!!!".
The other friend wrote back, "I know!! I can't wait til heaven when we can be next door neighbors!!!".

Oh man did that strike a chord.

I sent this card to Tamara for her birthday last fall.

I drew in a little Starbucks between our imaginary houses.

I have been actively, achingly missing my friends lately. I am feeling a deep longing to be doing regular life with them.

My trip to Wheaton last month was wonderful, and the best part was lots of casual time with my close girlfriends. I went shopping and drank coffee and talked for hours with Tamara. I took meandering evening walks through the neighborhood and cuddled on the couch watching Modern Family and talked for (more) hours with Christine. It was just what I needed, the perfect time with them.

And at points I could barely shake my sadness.

I was super surprised- and then I was SUPER irritated with myself! What kind of a jerk is so ungrateful as to feel sad over something like an awesome trip and lots of time with people I love?! When I love my life in Oregon and CHOSE IT and they love their lives there and I am SO SO lucky to have such great friends near AND far?!

Yeah well, unfortunately (as I would tell anyone else who tried it)- lecturing yourself about how you should feel (whether or not you're right), while so much fun and all, really is not all that productive.

I love where I live and I love the life I have chosen. I love my friends and where they are and what they're doing. I am grateful, and I would not change anything.

But I just miss them. Last year was just... life. Christine and I were involved in each other's daily lives, talking about work and relationships and what to buy at Target- as it all happened. I could stop by Josh and Meghan's apartment and go for a run or grab a bite of whatever delicious thing she'd just cooked on any random week night. A Friday night of Thai food and wine and a long conversation with Tamara happened regularly, and did not require a plane ticket.

I did all of those things in my eight days in Wheaton. It felt like being home- like the most normal, natural thing in the world. And somehow, this time, it sunk in that it's not. This past month since coming back, as I've realized it more and more- that those moments are not my daily life, and more than likely never will be again apart from a few occasional days of vacation...

Well... I've been sad.

I don't regret one bit of this decision, of pursuing this degree and definitely not of putting roots down in this community.
And I am so thankful for my friends' lives, for the blessings filling their Illinois worlds. For rhythms which are joyful and healthy, for jobs and church homes and husbands that love them so well.

Mostly, I am just so thankful I have these friends. Near or far, they are so life-giving for me. Every time I get off the phone with one of them after an hour of laughter and chatting that feels like we might as well be in each other's kitchens, the multiple times a week I send or receive a quick text for prayer over anything from a long day and a crabby attitude to paralyzing fear or deep pain- I feel filled up to the brim with thankfulness and joy. How blessed am I, to have such deep relationships with such wonderful women?

I just really hate not living near them anymore.

And I can't wait til heaven when we can live next door.

Talking to Tamara while I drink coffee on my couch... as she drinks coffee 2100 miles away on her couch.

(Actually, I think she was in her car. Pretty sure there was coffee, though).

 Vegging with Christine last month. A best friend and a purple fuzzy blanket... How life should be.

A good day.

Afternoon. 

Dinner.

Walk.

Matt.

Really, really missing my bestest bud today.

Happy 24th birthday, Matt!!

 

Matt with my mom over Christmas break,

with his family on my deck that time I did not cook spaghetti for a big family,

on a rock in a gorge in Canada on the best road trip ever.

 Love you.

And I exercised incredible self-restraint in not hacking your fb today,

so I get to be a little sappy and photo-happy on my blog.

.all we can see is a sliver, I cannot see as He sees.

Encouraged by this story this week...

"...A white stallion had rode into the paddocks of an old man and all the villagers had congratulated him on such good fortune.

And the old man had only offered this: “Is it a curse or a blessing? All we can see is a sliver. Who can see what will come next?”

When the white horse ran off, the townsfolk were convinced the white stallion had been a curse. The old man lived surrendered and satisfied in the will of God alone:  “I cannot see as He sees.”

And when the horse returned with a dozen more horses, the townsfolk declared it a blessing, yet the old man said only, “It is as He wills and I give thanks for His will.”

Then the man’s only son broke his leg when thrown from the white stallion. The town folk all bemoaned the bad fortune of that white stallion. And the old man had only offered, “We’ll see. We’ll see. It is as He wills and I give thanks for His will."

 When a draft for a war took all the young men off to battle but the son with the broken leg, the villagers all proclaimed the good fortune of that white horse. And the old man said but this, “We see only a sliver of the sum. We cannot see how the bad might be good. God is sovereign and He is good and He sees and work all things together for good.”"

"My focus need only be on Him.

It’s just a White Horse Hour... God’s only up to good work.

All we can see is Christ – and in Him all is grace."

-Ann Voskamp

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