the violet hour.

I have taken an inordinate amount of time to update this blog. I believe the last time I wrote was in April, and so much has changed and is still changing. My life right now has a beautiful rhythm mixed with some intense moments. But it’s late summer, my house smelled like baked apples all afternoon, the sun shines in spite of the fog, and we are wondrously adaptable creatures. 

There are beautiful moments in my life and I have been challenged lately to start keeping track of these moments. Things that make me happy, ways in which I take joy in life, the reflective pauses in the midst of small sweetnesses. 


The strains of Debussy’s Clair de Lune floats around the cricket’s and cicada’s concerto from the trees outside. My room makes me feel like Anne Shirley. “Love conquers all” decal above my door is a beautiful reminder every time I walk out (also, I kerned the letters well when I put it up.) The tiny orchard outside my window gives off a sweet fragrance in the heat of the day. The September Issue of Vogue came in the mail today, and with it came free perfume samples. Campfires with lovely people are so calming. Trip planning is exhilarating.


So much more. My life is so blessed. 

But I’ve been thinking lately about why it matters that I recognize that I’m blessed. I think it’s because I can get easily caught into the trap of discontent and forget that I am rich with friends and family and beautiful things around me. My life is made up of beauty, regardless of how it appears. The things in my life are beautiful because I say they are. Isn’t that what God did every time he created something? He made it, looked it over, and called it “good.” The world is horribly screwed up, but it is also beautiful because he said so. I have a say in how I view my environment, in how it interacts with me.

And I say, “it is good!” 


you sing me to sleep.

This probably isn’t what it sounds like. In fact, I’m not even sure what it sounds like, but I am positive it isn’t that.

I have so often wondered why I have the dreams that I do. It seems to be abnormal, which isn’t at all a bad thing. I just wonder why these specific pictures come up, these feelings, these waking and sleeping dreams. They seem to come in cycles, too.

For instance, I have always had a very specific dream for as long as I can remember. There are smells and touches associated with this dream, and sometimes all I can remember are the smells. But it’s still there.

I believe these dreams to be glimmers of things to come later in my life. More importantly, I believe them to signify things that are manifesting right now. God has given me wisdom to interpret dreams and also the gift of prophetic dreams. But this has thus far been taken too lightly in my life.

There is power that dwells within me and I have also made light of that fact. But what kind of existence would I lead of I only dreamed pleasantly, or interpreted wrongly, or ignored the prompt altogether?

He has begun a good work within me and he will perfect it, IS perfecting me. He gives me such grace and I can never pay him back. But this life will not be wasted on anything but Jesus. This is what I can offer, all I have, and it’s not even mine to give. My dreams, my heart. My levels of understanding and logic. The discernment of my soul. The words of my mouth. The touch of my hands. The blood pumping through the chambers of my heart.

The way he works is like my body, life blood affecting every area, becoming alive, active and moving and breathing and affecting the world around it.

Do you see? Do you know how he loves? That he would show us his love through our very cells! The perfectness that is him displayed in your beautiful eyes, the Beloved one staring back at me.

He who has ears to hear, let him hear!

i am thoreau.

“So this is how I choose to live, as if I’m jumping off a cliff knowing that you’ll save me, knowing that you’ll save me.” Relient K

I am a necessary part of the greatest adventure mankind will ever experience.

Every once in a while I pick up the book Wild at Heart by John Eldridge. I love this book, not because it explains men a bit more, but because it enlightened me to a few nuances about myself. Odd, I know, but that’s just how it ended up. My favorite chapter is the first. It explains at length how completely necessary adventure is to a man’s confidence. It talks about how men need raw, untamed wildness. I can see and understand that. I agree with it.
I also relate to it.

I don’t know why, but there has only been one thing in nature that fulfills me. The woods, and everything therein. Yes, the beach is relaxing, and my bed is a favorite, and my grandparent’s house is delightful. But there is something about the woods that I am in love with.

The smell of the damp earth and moss. The coolness of the breeze filtered through so much chlorophyl. The sunlight streaming through the leaves, what I call leaf-light. The darkness. The sounds. The green. The water flowing effortlessly, like it has for thousands of years. The richness. The animals, wary yet curious. The absence of time. The paths, ever winding. The self-sustained ecosystem. The oxygen.

I close my eyes and it seems to me like a little bit of heaven. There is danger here, there is adventure, there is peace, solice, perfection, beauty. Oh, what a paradox to have everything in one place. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I will always go back to the woods. It fills me up with gladness and thankfullness.

Dear old trees, we are such good friends. I’m looking forward to seeing them again.

he is jealous for me.

“I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, love the Lord your God, obey him, and remain faithful to him. For he Is your life, and he will prolong your life in the land the Lord swore to give your fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” Deuteronomy 30: 19,20.

He knows who I am. He knows what I have done and what I haven’t done. He knows what I am capable of, the evil and the beautiful. He knows me more intimately than I know my own heart.

And he still desires me.

We went on a journey this evening through my past, through my questions, through my fear. He knows how ashamed I have been of where I came from and who I was. He knows the level of depravity, of death from which I have been raised. I know and love the power of that resurrection. But there was always a spirit of fear that someday it would all come back, that my destiny would be tainted by the things of which I had been washed.


He gives me a choice: stay in that death, in a existence without power or impact. Or choose life, the only life there ever has been or ever will be.

And there is a promise attached to this choice. If I choose life, he promises that I will experience things that generations before me were promised but refused to receive.

He calls me to a life outside of what I have done, and now asks me what I will do for him. So I break the chains of fear that have been binding my hands from healing others, and I receive the true promised land that exists in the hearts of people I have yet to meet.

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