on this half lit day...

I brace for the colder winds that I know will come. I admit that something inside me dreads or even cringes a little at this time of year. What seems like residue from a bad bought of depression a couple years ago begs to haunt and linger. The darkness outside seeps in and creates a haze over the truths in my heart. It surfaces the darkness not dealt with, that's buried a bit deeper. Darker doubts and fears come up and work a pile so high of all the "why" questions between me and God.

You know the type (I've been told it's much better to ask the ones that start with "what" and "who", but they don't seem to pack the same kind of punch that a "why" does. ) The "whys" have held a strange attraction for us since the age of 4 or 5. It drove our parents mad. Now, I feel they are no less voiced, just far more internally. I'm thankful that God has an amazing capacity for patience to go along with His ability to hear our thoughts.

So I have this nice stack here and all the emotional ammo to go with it. And I must be figure that if I get some answer, I'll be able to remove one more sheet... or should I say brick from the wall I've been building again between me and God. As if it's my right to have all my questions answered before I will let God be my God again. There's my will again trying to have free reign. And now I'm sensing a response not too far off from the one He gave Job. And sensing too, how deceiving my heart really is. He might not give me the answers I want right now, or even this side of eternity. And that's His right. I might not be able to trust myself or my feelings, but He wants me to simply trust Him. To know that He considers my prayers precious. That He'll remove the barrier, and hold this pile, until my ears are ready to hear and my heart, to understand.

I love the four seasons in Minnesota. I guess because I've become very fond of change. I find myself craving it, and all too often weary, for arguing with God when it fails to arrive in the my allotted time. I love fall, the beautiful sacrifice it portrays. The colder winds draw near, asking trees, once so full of life, to forfeit their leaves. Some submit and drop early in an encore of color, while others turn rust, holding for dear life until after the snow falls. I wonder, are the latter stronger or are they just more stubborn?

In every season of my life I'm been asked to die in some way, to give up something I hold so near to my heart. (Tonight, it seems to be those chronic questions again) To lay it down, that a new life would have its chance to bud. It's painful, almost a lonely process in the sense of loss, and usually met with a fight from me. With each new season, and my awareness of its coming grows, I'm hoping that my grip knows better when to let go. I'm assured the death is inevitable and though I will have to taste this winter, I am also a prisoner of hope. I know that in a little while, I will once again experience an opened door, see the new buds, and the breathe in the refreshing fragrance of spring.


on this half lit day
with your crown beneath your wings
ev'ry word just echoes
and the empty world sings

where have you gone, my feather light heart?
i never imagined i could leave
where have you gone, my sparkling wind?
right here is the hardest place to be

in the glistening
of the lost and open sky
tiny piece of you sits
simple wish waits for reply

where have you gone, my feather light heart?
i never imagined i could leave
where have you gone, my sparkling wind?
right here is the hardest place to be

forgive and beneath a shadow
delivered into a dream
where beating wings of the weary
let me in, take me in

where have you gone, my feather light heart?
i never imagined i could leave
where have you gone, my sparkling wind?
right here is the hardest place to be

where have you gone, my feather light heart?
you musn't forget what Love can see

Where by Lisbeth Scott and Harry Gregson-William

please take the wheel

Hi.

I think it's about time for an update on here. This is brought to you in part tonight by the Koski laundry machines, successfully detaching me once again from the tasks left at the apartment, so I can count the minutes until all waterdroplets have evaporated from my garments. I should note that I don't mooch on the 'rents that often, I do have my own laundry down the hall. However, I think whoever designed the size of the washing machine tubs did not take into consideration that just a few doors away is a girl with a walk in closet, and a couple sheets, who thinks that its a complete crime to spend $3 to wash and dry them.

But seriously, I've been thinking about time alot lately. and the sand of it really is slipping through my fingertips, as if it were really even in my hands. But I can't stop its wheels or make the sun stand still.
I turn 26 next month. I recently read somewhere that this is the age one is actually perceived as an adult by american society. Ok so I've got about 48 days to make the best of my childhood. Just kidding. I hope to always answer when asked about it: "so far, so good".

I don't really feel that old, its just that some things in the past are starting to feel so far away. And its causing me to wrestle with some stuff, like where am I really going or what am I really doing with this whisp of time granted here before it's up? And how am I using those moments? I need to be reminded of who I was, who I am, who God is, of what's true, and real.

And life around here has been so surreal the last week with the bridge collapse. My spirit is so heavy. The devastation is so close this time. I can see just the of the far west side of it on my afternoon bus rides over the 3rd Ave bridge. I look out the window with the rest for a glimpse, confirming it's really there, it really happened. I've yet to follow after the throngs of people who line the ways to this deep, bleeding wound in our city.

When I cross over the freeway, I'm always struck by the road signs that hover above it. They're still there. No one removed them, inspite of inaccurate direction they now provide. They're a false lead, directing us on a way ahead that's no longer there. And I suppose the time allotted to think on this ride has really made for some deep parallels, so bear with me because I think God was speaking to my heart on this.

Where are we going? What words over our lives do we accept, believe and then follow everyday? What are the road signs we trust and take direction from? Are they only the ones that lead towards something we think we want? Do they have the potential to change and misdirect us into danger or are they consistant for eternity, and set to bring us safely Home? And when we die, will we make it over to the otherside, choosing the one Bridge that promises just that?

Time is really not on our side and I'm feeling it so much now. God only knows the days He's written for us. He set eternity in our hearts. We can't escape it. We are going somewhere, and we will have to cross that bridge. I know He'll gonna bring me safely home, but am I choosing to follow His road signs each day to ensure the trip is prosperous? Are my very steps established in His Word?

So this is my prayer. Tear my eyes from those billboards, the distractions and trappings on this road trip. Let my face not be found on that familiar wide and well traveled road that just leads to desert. May my car never again idle on Apathy Avenue nor Complacency Circle. Or worse yet, be parked in pity or stalled at that stoplight called self. Let me instead, I pray, always be on the Way, in the Truth and filled with Life.

The rearview mirror is pretty clear. Clear that for this to all happen, Jesus, you'll need to take the wheel.

life is hard to figure, but we're prisoners of hope

It's nearly midnight and I'm seriously tired, but as usual the creative wheels inside have just geared up and the w questions are making their appearance after the day's neglect. So now writing on a page I haven't touched in over a year. Did I mention it can take me some time to set up? Quite a bit has happened in the last 400+ days. I guess you could say I have been there and back again. "The shadow proves the sunshine" (thanks Switchfoot) And the experience of cozying up with those 3 little words with cause for squirm: "I don't know".

I never thought I'd make friends with that little letter combo. I've wanted to know everything ahead of time from age 4. But here I am. And it's takin a number of squashed plans to convince me that I really have no any idea what's going on. That said, it's the most honest answer I have and a small part of me is beginning to enjoy the friendship (emphasis on small).

Life is hard to figure. I read that somewhere. Just as God's love for us is stubborn and His grace incomprehendable. I like how Nichole Nordeman puts it:

"His love is not at all passive. It is so relentless in its pursuit of our terrified hearts. The love of God will hunt you down until you finally spin around in exasperaton ('okaaaaay!!!') and admit how cherished you are. It gives us confidence when comfort is MIA. It gives our stories context and hope when somebody else recklessly rips out a chapter. It fills in the blanks. The love of God hoists us up on the shoulders of Jesus and hollers out the promise of St. Paul, 'I can do ALL things through Christ, who gives me strength!' It scoops us up and makes us brave."

Run, baby run as fast as you can...but you'll keep running into Me. Psalm 23:6 What a promise. How many times have I run and then spun around? Evermore aware at the start and with each foot fall that I will, resolution or not, inevitably stop, pivot, and fall on my knees. Wow.. I need to admit that I spent last night/this morning throwing a bit of a tempertantrum at God. Some unmet expectations and dreams unraveled. The kind of stuff you keep hauling to alter for God to take, because He doesn't choose an instant fix. Hannah's story in 1 Samuel has been giving me some hope.

How can it be that in all that I know of Him, His Goodness etc there's still room in a part of me that feels strongly of an indifference from Him towards some dreams that He's written into my heart? He's been silent on them for a very long time. Unless I'm deaf (and I very well could be) there's been no yes or no. And silence is worse. Even Job got his relief when God spoke up before God ever restored (in greater measure) all that he'd lost. I've even asked them to be removed because I'm so tired of it hurting/mattering so much. Ha Ha.. well if He put them there then I guess He owns them too. So my mad spell didn't end with the resolution I so sought, I found myself driving around with the music loud.... singing along, sure enough, wanting to praise Him and ignore what I got so worked up about. He woke me up this morning, and He still has my heart so I guess these dreams are there still, and I won't be fully alive without them.

There's this sweet verse in Zech 9:12 that says we're prisoners of hope. God reminded me of that recently. There's a Willow Tree figurine with the little boy holding a balloon called hope. I'd been captivated by it since first sight.. it so embodies the idea of hope. His little arms reaching up.. where does my hope come from? I've got my hope set high...in the Highest, Someone above it all. Each time I'd seen it the store I debated the purchase and held off in the end. Anyway, I'd visited my aunt and uncle about 2 months ago and my Aunt informed me that she was sending me something. She had NO idea that I'd been struggling, and after one very tough day I came home to this box, and a note filled with verses on hope. As I unwrapped it, I pulled out the little boy and balloon, only God and maybe 2 other people on the planet knew I wanted. He must have known I needed something so tangible.

Went shopping today, kinda splurged a little. I might regret that later. Talk about flesh taking over. I did get a nice little raise on my paycheck this week. PTL! For the first time in my life I nearly passed out. Twice. (We're those attempts to get to me to stop shopping?... especially after that sermon Pastor Ryan last gave last Sunday on spending $) I've never blacked out so bad before, never been so assaulted by such physical darkness! lol. As I was standing in a squished line at the register I realized I couldn't see anything and had to oddly excuse myself to bend over and hope the lights would come back on. It happened at Subway too.

Now I'm eating a blizzard that melted. Speaking of blizzards, we should have one. So little snow has touched the ground its hard to imagine Christmas near. The commercialized way of drumming it in just doesn't seem to cut it. I want a REAL one, to be hushed, and lost in its wonder, beholding the beauty in the mystery. I say that every year. How He came in the humble and helpless skin of a baby, believing in 2 ordinary humans enough to raise him up, to then rescue a ransomed world. "Love is a gift wrapped up in the mystery of You"

Babies are so good at letting the wonder in. I was able to spend last weekend with Jordan and Mackenzie. I'm so glad God sent Macky into our world, everything is something to wonder at and something to taste :) she's not afraid to try. Its like she's reminding us how we're supposed to approach life. (check out the song Wunderkind by Alannis Morrisette on the Narnia soundtrack) When Mackenzie meets you she scans your face inquistively.. touches it and makes the biggest grin. Affirms you're something special, that He loves you, a wunderkind. She's so REAL. I long to BE with people, like Mackenzie is, like Jesus. Are we really on the other side of our eyes, our words? I wish everyone could meet her.

Its so dark out there. I was just thinking how for SAD, a daily dose is about 20-30 minutes spent under a special lamp in the morning. Imagine what every ray of God's Light does. Oh my I've rambled..

Bask much to fight off the winter's chill,
:)Cara

some ponderings..stars, polar floods, mud puddles and a wingback chair

Hello there :)

I couldn't sleep last night (I did get 2 hours this morning though). So it made for some extra pondering(w/much support from my analytical mind)/reading/prayer time...and I thought I'd share what came of it.

So yesterday I woke up with Switchfoot's "gone" playing in my head ("today will soon be gone like yesterday is gone....we pretend like we're immortal") and went to bed last night with the monumental revelation of how tiny we are again. It happens every so often and I wonder why I forget. I wouldn't say the point of it or how I felt about it made me feel insignificant, but my daily thoughtworld seemed to shrink to mere zilch and my troubles carried far less weight. I think I found I have more in common with that speck of dust on this desk than I thought. Perspective is a funny but great thing.

It all started while I was rereading Max Lucado's Great House of God. In which he talks about the Observatory and stars and how you can cover up billions of them from your view with a dime just by stretching out your hand. And how the earth is tilted at exactly 23 degrees and if that were to change we would have a polar flood. fun fun. hehe. So last night while my brain was puttering away I decided that a part of me has been snorkling through life lately in a mud puddle. Or maybe my mask is full of mucky water.. n e way, there's not much to look at and its really dark and God must be shaking His head at me because He intended this Great Barrier Reef for me to explore instead.

Does anybody else feel like part of them is asleep? I wonder what life would be like if we used that large portion of our brain said to be unused. I've wasted so much, and more now than ever, this way of life-without God consuming every single aspect of it - feels and is so insignificant and futile. We're not really living and we wonder why we can't be content/satisfied. He makes me want to live and I want that consuming to be a complete reality in my life.

N e way, I could really go off on a tangent here.. but what I wanted to say was that inspite how tiny I felt (and am) next to this ginormous creation. God reminded me through Max's book how incredibly significant I am and you are too. The heavens are His workshop, the universe His artwork. And He made it all for you!. He could've made it boring and just functional but He wanted our jaws to drop in wonder so He made it all with extravagence... including you. (You are "fearfully and wonderfully made"- Psalm 139:14) Ahh.....It boggles my mind!

So then on top of that when things seem so unsatisfying, fleeting, and insignificant He also showed me a wonderful place we can go for refuge. In the Great House of God Max talks about the living room where God has a scrapbook of your life, your picture framed on the mantle and a chair next to His just for you, to sit in as His child. So I started to imagine it this big comfy wingback chair. And how I could climb up and sit in it at anytime, my feet would barely hang over the edge, or curl up and take a nap and dream good dreams. The point being that it was OK to be small and not have the answers, to be a "child" because I was cherished and loved. I hope and plan to spend a lot more time there.

So if you haven't already, go try out that big comfy chair made especially for you:)

love & peace

Cara

Hi everybody,
Welcome :) I set this up a week ago in hopes to communicate more with people (than I have been) while my artistic side jumped at the idea to be creative and play. However, a history of indecisiveness/perfectionism (that I'm gradually conquering;)) may surface here as I have been known to take months to hang up pics when I move into a place. Lets hope against that.

N e way, I'm up at my Grandma's house on the lake and have been since Thursday night. This first blog is for my Grandpa. He went to Heaven last Thursday after a surgery, unexpectedly for us, but apparently not for Jesus. The memorial service was yesterday and I'm happy to say that it was more of a celebration. My sis Heather and I were grinning ear to ear while we sang How Great Thou Art -she in spanish and I in english. How can we not be thankful that He's in the best place with the best, most beautiful Person and free from pain? I also have my moments of "why did you leave?" and " I didn't get to say goodbye" and as much as "you'll see him again soon" comforts..how many years will I live??

My grandpa loved music so I sang a song called "Every Season" from my favorite artist Nichole Nordeman. It felt soo good to sing the words of the last verse about God making us new. The pianist was a pro and it was an mutual honor for us. My Grandpa really admired him. This is probably the closest person to me to die. And I'm really learning about this whole grieving thing as some of you know can't be packaged. I've had my stomach dropping, tear soaked moments but also extreme joy. I'm really tired alot. But I'm so grateful to God for His grace right now. Its abundant and amazing. For saving my Grandpa a couple years ago and putting that light in his eyes, for taking him home. For my sister returning from the peace corp in time to spend a couple days with him and take him to the hospital and be with my Grandma. For surrounding us in prayer and family and friends. It's funny how a separating thing like death brings you together.

I'm gonna really miss him though and all his joking around. When we were little and made a mess or were rude at the dinner table he tell us to say "oink, oink". I guess I'll have to pass that tradition on. My analytical mind wants to "figure" some of this out still and I have a feeling it will be more so when I get back to things again. But I'm finding that I want to let go of this whole "figuring" thing, besides who said that was my job anyway?

Friday, the pastor came to the house and said that he thought of God smiling whenever it was sunny. It was sunny. I went for a run up the north road and was crying and at the same time thinking how joyful Grandpa must be. I suddenly felt God was saying to lift my face to the sun and give them the biggest ear to ear grin I could manage. So I did. And He just poured the joy into me. I highly recommend it to try anytime. I have a quote that says "Joy is not the absense of pain but the presence of God". In that moment He was showing inspite of the situation, I could make a choice at what to magnify in it. That the joy was just as valid and real as the pain.

I hope this finds you well in your little corner of the world.

grace & blessings