Sunday, September 25, 2011


  It turns out that autumn in Georgia ends up feeling much more like a mild summer. The mornings have a refreshing breeze but soon after the sun rises into the sky the warmth engulfs our Southern peach state. There have been some very nice days that are more than comfortable to sit outside and enjoy the breeze but also a few that make me want to resort to shorts and a t-shirt.
  I am enjoying being content. I am working hard to find the reward in the more thought-provoking or frustrating things in life. Many days I wish I could be Mrs. Fix-it and create perfect situations of how life would work out. After I finish day-dreaming, I realize the kind of responsibility that would rest on my shoulders if I were to attain that job. Working at fixing me, I think, is responsibility enough. I don't always have the right reactions nor say all the right things, but I am learning; learning not to be selfish but more so think of the people around me first. I reckon the world would be a much more pleasant place   that way. 
  I feel like the need for grace grows daily. It's an overwhelming feeling when I realize there is enough.

Currently Listening: "Someone Like You" by Adele

Thursday, September 22, 2011

simple pretties.

It was a sunny, Sunday afternoon spent having good conversation with great company.

The bright yellow makes a pop against the dark backdrop of this picture.

I love the assortment of chairs around each table. So unique!

A freshly found Vintage bicycle displayed in front of a wonderful wooden slat wall.

Currently Listening: "Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens

Monday, September 19, 2011


  What does it mean to invest? In my short 18 years of experience, I have found that it means to give of something important, voluntarily, knowing fully that there may not be a return in order. Stock brokers understand this. Every day they put the fate of a large sum of money into the hands of a company that may or may not succeed. It seems like humans continue to lower their intelligence by entering into this type of trade. To our demise, we set ourselves up to win big or lose it all within a matter of minutes. 
  The only answer that I can muster is that the hope of winning or out-weighing the odds overcomes the fear of defeat. People make this large-sum investment not only in stocks but in various aspects of life. We put hope into people, the economy, traditions, a country or the government counting on the fact that all of these things "could" turn out well. Investing in people would have to take first place in comparison to other things. It is personal. Instead of green paper falling from your pockets, your heart, emotions, and feelings are left in a vulnerable place of loneliness or fear. The return, or lack of, is much harder to handle. 
  So why do people just not have friends? Why do people invest in an almost assured return of nothing? One must decide that the risk is more rewarding than safety. It takes a great deal of courage to be a friend. At times I struggle in thinking I am a good one. I have to be selfless. Relationship leaves no room for  selfish ambition. Daily, I work on being strong enough to be revealed. A pleasant return one week is followed by the lack of feeling or requited love. No longer a hermit, I am crawling out of my shell.  Friendship is worth it; the belief of being worthy to have friends is too.

Currently Listening: "Jezebel" by Iron & Wine


Tuesday, September 13, 2011

e.e. cummings.

simply and perfectly said.

Currently Listening: "Sarah" by Ray LaMontagne


  A morning necessity that frequently accompanies the breakfast table. Pumpkin spice lattes are back on the menu at Starbucks. I am holding out for the perfect autumn-esque day where I can sit outside and sip to my heart's delight. The days cannot get colder any quicker. There is something sweet about enjoying a cup of warm coffee and I don't just mean the sugar that disguises the bitter bean. Maybe it is the company that usually goes along with the beverage. A cold day warmed by a cup in hand and the conversation of friends rarely has a substitute. This could be added to the list of reasons that fall is awarded the best season in my heart. A smidge of hope rises up in me every time I walk out my front door the morning that separates August from September. If the South is lucky, a crisp air will cause windows and doors to open throughout our house. The excitement of a new season seldom loses its joy.

Currently Listening: "I Disagree" by Act of Congress

Monday, September 12, 2011


  So I make many lists. To-do lists mostly but they normally give me the incentive to do things. They serve many purposes. Some list the items that need to be packed for a trip. Some outline the errands I need to finish for a certain day. Others give me an allotted time to get things finished. This past summer I created a list of fun things that I would like to do while the hot sun was shining brightly in the sky. Making strawberry lemonade was one of those tasks.
  I traveled up to the lovely Lake Junaluska in Waynesville, North Carolina with my boyfriend, Jason, and his family over labor day weekend. His grandparents live in a small house right on the edge of the lake that makes a good place for making memories. Jason's parents are missionaries in France. Before they shipped out, they wanted to hug their kids' necks. It was a blessing for them that all four children were able to gather with their families (and girlfriend) to say their last goodbyes. Good food and great memories were shared while the rain tickled the roof of the outside screened in porch. We received our first taste of fall with temperatures dipping into the sixties. Laughter flooded every room. Sometimes it was brought on by a funny story or by Grandpa Don doctoring the large blister on my foot.
 On a trip to the store, Jason and his dad decided to get some lemonade mix and strawberries for me to make nothing less than a wonderful batch of strawberry lemonade. While Jason mixed the lemonade, I crushed and cut the strawberries to adorn the glasses and fill the sweet, southern drink. From the looks of the pitcher at the end of the meal, we gathered that the treat was a hit.
  The trip was as bitter-sweet as the strawberry lemonade we made. It was hard to say goodbye, but the assurance that we will see them again soon was comforting. There is nothing like knowing that people are following the path that the Lord has set before them with full confidence.

Currently Listening: "And it Spread" by The Avett Brothers

Sunday, September 11, 2011


The colors of this bouquet are exquisite.


I think that this artist did a wonderful job of catching the details of these creatures using watercolors. 
Found here.

Thursday, September 8, 2011


  At times it takes being left for pieces of life to be reconfigured and placed together. It seems as though the pieces we thought would forever stay the same shape in a puzzle have suddenly changed form. They still fit into the large picture but they have taken a different position; they could be closer but sometimes pulled further away. It throws one off when suddenly what they had been working on piecing together their entire life has changed.
  A transition of this kind is difficult. Not to say that what this does to us as people is bad, it just shows the parts of our heart that are unsettled. If life is not built upon rock then the only other option is sand. The slightest wind or motion blows away the small crystals that only form to the moment's condition. When built on solid rock, the winds, tides, and storms come but have little effect on the state of stability.
  It is easy to become frantic with change. It is easy to run away from reality. It is better to stand on the rock that will never be shaken. Hearts are at peace in this place. I am confident in moving forward and excited for seasons to come.
  I have never been left.

Currently Listening: "Sailboats" by Brooke Fraser

Thursday, September 1, 2011

a year.

  Mention of a surprise on a said friday night did nothing but build anticipation for what might come. A surprise tends to monopolize your thoughts to a point of spoil but I have learned to tame this urge. More often than not I try to forget that I know anything. I spent the day last friday musing over details of where my wonderful boyfriend would take me. Outlandish thoughts of a one-day trip somewhere was soon replaced by the idea of a creative dinner that involved some conversation and simply time. Too excited to wait, I got ready nearly two hours before it was time to leave. I put on my favorite dress and big girl shoes and every so often checked to see if my hair or make-up had messed up since my last look.  He arrived and with a short goodbye we were off. South on I-85, we entered the city. Exits passed. Music slipped through the speakers as we exchanged glances of adoration and joy. 
  With the evening beginning well before expected, "time to kill" was in order. Walking through the city lead us past the Tabernacle and on to Woodruff Park. We enjoyed the sweetness of Starbucks coffee and cake pops while being surrounded by a park full of cyclists ready to embark on an excursion. A strange part of town, from what we gathered, was a mix of college students, indie-folk, and the confused individuals that bike to negate the health effects of their nicotine. A reservation for seven thirty seemed far off at six o'clock in Atlanta's end-of-summer heat. 
  We walked for what seemed like miles until I found myself making the decision to be content with where we were. Just being together was what mattered. When the realization that a picnic in shorts and a t-shirt would be just as delightful, my heart found that the heat dissipated and the blisters disappeared. Seven o'clock came and we entered "The French American Brasserie" in Atlanta. Our reservation was moved up and the host showed us the way to the elevator. The evening was spent looking over the city of Atlanta and catching traces of the sunset. We even spotted a hidden "I love you" on the side of an old building.
  Our first course was a cheese plate garnished with sweet spreads to compliment the bread brought to the table. The plate held a bleu cheese that made a frenchman wince. Distracted by a sweet face and laughter, I unfortunately dropped the last sliver of my favorite cheese on the ground. The waiter recited the specials void of a French accent. We ordered salmon and duck for our main courses, quickly passing over the mention of eating rabbit. Candles were lit as we exchanged expressions of what the last year held. Hiccups aside, it was a perfect evening. I have been blessed beyond measure with a wonderful man of God. 

Currently Listening: "Forever" by Ben Harper