Wednesday, April 27, 2011

ride the train i can't sleep.

This weekend I traveled home to spend Easter with my family and a few extra friends. Home never ceases to be everything I need it to be. It's consistently a source of such refreshment and restoration. Each time I drive the roads between here and there, the roads becoming more and more familiar with each journey, I am reminded how undeservingly blessed I am. How blessed I am to have the dearest family on the face of this planet, how blessed I am to have parents that welcome in the world, to have sisters that like to bake and laugh and dance, to have a brother who is full of surprises and thoughtfulness...(not to mention grandparents who never fail to shower me with hugs and kisses.) Every time I go home I seem to struggle to put everything into words; everything seems far too beautiful for words. While at home I do my best to burn moments into my memory, to stare and take in the way we shuffle about on the wood floors (the wood floors that my little hands helped to lay) while the sunshine explodes on the big glass windows all around us... to burn into my memory the way the birds sing in the morning, I try to take note of the way my grandfather's hand feels in mine as we clasp them in prayer, or the way the sun pierces my eyes and makes me walk around all stumble-y and squinty eyed for what feels like an eternity in the morning (haha) ... and yet, some things are so beautiful that words just slip right off. The most perfect sentences in the world could not pin them down. This is where I find myself so often.

These days I have really been wrestling with what to fill up this blog with, unsure as to who still reads this and how much time I should really put into it... sometimes I just do not have much to say, or nothing seems worth saying. So for now, here's just some snapshots of my Easter thoughts and writings...not much, but maybe it will satisfy those of you who still read this. I'll try to come up with something more thoughtful and creative next time. . . (sorry for the hiatus and lack of thoughtfulness recently.)

Good Friday.

The clouds are painted grey today. Rain hits my windshield in persistent streaks. It is Good Friday and the rain is fitting somehow. I feel like it must have rained on the day Jesus was crucified...the whole world must have cried a grey cloud of tears, slowly stumbling down rolling hills and on into rippling, wailing brooks. It is hard for me to imagine. It's hard to wrap my thoughts around a love so great. Like comparing nameless beauty with fiction, it's hard to grasp the reality of it all.


The rain fell again last night, just before the hours turned into the dawn of Easter. This time we did not run inside to shield ourselves from the downpour. Rather, we let the drops fall boldly onto our faces, into our pores, and all over our clothes. Washing away the remaining remnants of dust and dirt and death, reminding us that we have had much more washed away than we will ever comprehend.
Like children playing in the rain, we are free.


I want always to remember the way a soft spring breeze dances through the screens and into the warm yellow kitchen - the feeling of bodies bustling around preparing food and occasionally bumping into each other with smiles. I want to remember the way the trampoline squeals and sinks, gracefully bowing beneath the weight of one too many friends... to never forget the way my brother crawls out of his bedroom window and casually walks in the door to surprise us. I want to remember the green - so lush and vibrant. (it too is a reminder of life so full.) I want not to forget the song birds and their melodies that fill the air like water to the soil, though not sufficient alone, quite necessary. Please tell me I'll remember the yellow explosions on the forsythia - and the varying shades of buds bursting forth after a long winter. (spring is coming in close behind fall on the season marathon.) ... I want always to remember my mom's unspeakable hospitality, the way she welcomes and provides for and pleases all who walk through our doors. [I want to learn from her.] I want to remember this time, so precious, so shared, so full of love and joy and anticipation...

praise God from whom all blessings flow.

also, please listen to this song. 
radiohead's "no surprises" 
the soundtrack to my heart these days. 


  1. And surely you must be thankful for an uncle who dances with you in the living room and never forgets to wish you a happy birthday!

  2. for the record, i still read this. and check it frequently. and love everything you have to say :)