my most favorite things

its tuesday evening. a breezy, fall one at that. i'm drinking my first ever iced coffee. the roasterie windows are open. sigh. fall is my favorite. for so many reasons. mainly because i slow down. i open my eyes and realize how blessed i am. this usually leads to me finding a million "new" favorite things. maybe they aren't that new after all? maybe they are, but none the less. i get really excited about them.

. like goat cheese. pretty sure that the way to my heart is through goat cheese.

. and wine.

. her too. glory be. like pirouettes drifting...

. and twinkle lights. best invention ever! especially when they're hung outside.

. over a big table.

amys iphone

. and eating by candlelight when the transformer blows and the twinkle lights go out.

. and getting woken up by little boy whispers. and karate chops. and french phrases.

. running in the coolness, but still warm enough to wear a tank top and get tan.

. baking. and lots of it.

. while wearing a vintage apron. in the last 2 weeks, i've baked 4 apple pies, one batch of pumpkin cookies, and a loaf of banana bread. my house smells heavenly.

. reading. all.day.long.

. this book. amazing. probably my favorite read this year. go buy it immediately!!

. my favorite reading chair (i have a reading chair!!!) that used to belong to a dear friend.

. open windows.

. while its raining.

. my pajama pants. that actually aren't even mine. i don't own any pajama pants. weird. i know. which makes me love them more. a dear friend let me borrow them when i stayed at her house, and i literally run home and change into them. there is just something so great. so perfect about them. so peaceful and restful. i know sometime i'm going to have to give them back. sigh.


but until then... ;)

why not?

*image found on weheartit

on naming

This is by far my favorite scene in blood diamond. Where a father speaks to his son. Speaks to his deep heart, the heart that longs to be fully known. He knows his name. He reminds him where he belongs, what he loves, who loves him. All these things that have been stolen from Dia, his father returns.

I was talking to a friend about redeeming stories. How our stories are being rewritten, beautifully redeemed. Where disappointment has been known, encouragement floods in. Beauty for ashes. Blessing for mourning. Praise for despair. It actually reminded me of being children. Going back to that place before life happened. Running through fields. Playing dress up in bedrooms. Precious hearts that trusted fully and hoped unswervingly.

But we grow up. Life happens. Little by little pieces get stolen. We steal from others. We became afraid to hope. Afraid to dream. Afraid to trust. Somewhere, along the way, we forgot who we were. We forget who we are. We forget our names and we assume new ones. The smart one. The beautiful one. The dependable one. The needy one. The one that's not enough. The one that's too much.

We've forgotten our names.

But our Father looks at us. Straight in the eye. And reminds us.

And you will be given a new name by the Lords own mouth. The LORD will hold you in his hand for all to see-a splendid crown in the hand of God. Never again will you be called "the forsaken city" or "the desolate land" your new name will be "the city of God's delight" and "the bride of God". isaiah 62:2-4

He reminded me today.

. annaelyse .

enter the new country

"You have an idea of what the new country looks like. Still, you are very much at home, although not truly at peace, in the old country. You know the ways of the old country, its joys and pains, its happy and sad moments. You have spent most of your days there. Even though you know that you have not found there what your heart most desires, you remain quite attached to it. It has become part of your very bones.

Now you have come to realize that you mus leave it and enter the new country, where your Beloved dwells. You know that what helped and guided you in the old country no longer works, but what else do you have to go by? you are being asked to trust that you will find what you need in the new country. That requires the death of what has become so precious to you: influence, success, yes, even affection and praise.

Trust is so hard, since you have nothing to fall back on. Still trust is what is essential. The new country is where you are called to go, and the only way to go there is naked and vulnerable.

It seems that you keep crossing and recrossing the border. For a while you experience real joy in the new country. But then you feel afraid and start longing again for all you left behind, so you go back to the old country. To your dismay, you discover that the old country has lost its charm. Risk a few more steps into the new country, trusting that each time you enter it, you will feel more comfortable and be able to stay longer" -Henri Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love

"The LORD your God will soon bring you into the land he swore to give you..."deut 6:10

just how I roll

Last night one of my friends asked if I wanted to come to Lawrence and go to banff. Always game for an adventure it took me about 3 seconds to decide. HECK yes. But I needed to get a ticket. I call first thing in the morning. They say they're sold out. hmmm. surely not.

So I go over to graham's house and we take off to Lawrence. He's got a ticket. I don't, but I'm just throwing all in, hoping I can find one.

We stop by his friends house. He said last night they announced that both fri and sat were totally, completely, absolutely SOLD OUT.

SUCK.

Determined to not let the lack of ticket ruin my day, I just decide to call friends and see if they want to hang out. I get a hold of my friend Nat who asks why I'm in Lawrence "well, I'm hoping to get tickets to banff, but they're sold out". It just so happens that her roommate works for the bike shop sponsoring the film fest. So Nat shoots a text to Katherine.

Katherine says she'll ask around. She goes into work at 1. Right after she gets there a guy walks up to the register. He has two tickets he doesn't need. And he's wondering if there is any way he can sell them back. She takes them and calls Natalie.

I just bought the last two tickets to a sold out show. because that's how i roll.

neither itsy nor bitsy

When I was ten my dad took me and my sister (who was 6) to see Arachnophobia at the Post theater. In his defense, taking a 10 and 6 year old to see a PG-13 movie about killer spiders, was probably not his idea. Pretty sure that I had been begging him to go see it. I'm nothing if not persistent. :) Me and the persistent widow, cut from the same cloth. "I won't be too scared dad. Spiders don't scare me. PLLEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSEEEEEEE!"

Needless to say. I think we lasted about 10 minutes before I was screaming and begging to leave. My six year old sister sat there unfazed (similar to the time a year before when we had to be evacuated from a hotel due to a bomb scare, that she slept right though. I, on the other hand, cried through the rest of the night.)

So we left. My dad still teases me about that day. And I still hate spiders. My seething hate of them has made me a master spider killer.

Yesterday I decided it was finally time to mow the lawn. Another thing I hate, mowing the lawn. I've done it since I was ten (hmmm. ten was apparently a pivotal year in developing a hatred of things). And I just don't like doing it, probably solely on principal of wanting a guy to do yard work, and the fact that I've done it for 18 years. Future husband-let it be known, you will probably be the one mowing the lawn.

The lawn mower is in the basement/garage. Which I found out yesterday, when I went down there, has become a vacation spot for spiders of all kinds. I screamed no less than 5 times as I walked through web after web trying to get to the mower. I make a mental note to call our landlord and have someone come out and exterminate the varmints.

I suck it up. Brave the webs. Hold my breath as the demon cricket spiders jump all around my feet and get the mower out. I mow the lawn (It really wasn't that bad. I still don't love it) and put the mower back up. I run the gauntlet of webs and demon crickets and spiders vacationing and make it back upstairs without screaming. I only thought I was done dealing with spiders for the day.

As I'm crawling into bed around midnight, I look over at my wall and there is a HUGE spider just hanging out. I fly out of bed and grab the nearest thingtokillaspiderwith, a folder I had next to my bed. I was pretty thankful at this point that I hadn't cleaned my room super well, as the spider was blocking the path to my shoes. I grab the folder and try to hit the spider, keeping my cool.

I miss.

Then scream. Loud.

You NEVER want to miss a spider on your first try. Your chances of killing it after that decrease exponentially.

He's startled and starts scurrying down the wall. Now, I'll be damned if I'm going to have a killer spider running around my room. My second attempt was successful, and he was soon flushed down the toilet (I take no chances). That's another thing said future husband will do-kill spiders.

This morning I was telling my cube mate about it, and he assured me it was a wolf spider Nope. Not him. It could have been one of these guys or maybe him? (shudder) Maybe it was just my own personal friendly Charlotte?

Regardless. Landlord has been called. Done and done.