This Is Not A New Year's Post

I've been struggling for the past 24 days with whether or not to write a New Year's post.

If anything, I've really decided against doing it.  The newness of this year is something I don't really feel like discussing.

If I'm going to be honest, the past 24 days of 2014 have really just firmed up the tidy little ending to a chaotic year, and the only thoughts the New Year has brought me are of its predecessor and all the many things that happened during 2013.

And so, in place of heralding in the current Ano Nuevo, I'd like to give a little salute'n'boot to 2013, and to tip my hat in honor of some things I learned along the way.

This isn't a re-cap, it's not a summation of events, it's not even going to be all that descriptive.  If you're looking to know exactly what's going on in my life, you're not going to find it here.  Nor are you going to discover what I've been up to since the last time I posted, which was the day before Thanksgiving.  If you want to know those things, call me.  It may be the age of technology and all, but hey, I'll tell you one thing: if you really want to make an impression on someone, call them.   Ask them how their life is going.  Be present.

(I digress.)

If, however, you enjoy my vaguely perilous dogmatic excerpts, and are no stranger to indistinct commentaries on the nuances of average, please, be my guest to continue reading.

THINGS I LEARNED IN 2013:

• I learned how to parallel park an all-wheel-drive wagon. (No small feat, I assure you.)
• I learned more about piano servicing than the average non-musical, non-technical person should ever know.
• I learned the difficult truth that when someone tells you they want to accompany you "always and forever" no matter where you go, the proper response is not to blurt out, "Well, that's just not realistic."
• I learned about the precious gift which is the type of smile you can hear in someone's voice. 
• I learned that the internet is capable of changing people in unexpected ways.
• I learned my identity in Christ.
• I learned that whenever a cute guy driving a huge RV towing a dune buggy and full to the brim of laughing twenty-somethings leans out of his window to yell, "Hiiii!  You're really pretty!!!!" In the middle of Sunday evening traffic in Santa Barbara, CA, you should accept the fact that you're beautiful, whether or not you agree. 
• I learned that some people have mermaid blood.
• I learned the difference between "I love you," and "I miss you."
• I learned that sharks have very similarly structured eyes to humans, and unlike most in the animal kingdom, they can see vividly in color.
• I learned that loneliness is not a curse, although it is a struggle to navigate.
• I learned that saying goodbye is the hardest possible thing to do.
• I learned that you are never too old to ride the teacups at Disneyland.
• I learned that I am surprisingly good at office administration.
• I learned that loved ones can hurt you.  Deeply.
• I learned that people cannot be navigated.
• I learned the fondness I have for the diversity of a certain four-lettered word.
• I learned that tragedy strikes in the most raw, intimate, and devastating manners possible.
• I learned the power of a good voicemail.
• I learned that sometimes, the only proper response is to scream out, "ONE MORE TIME WITH FEELING!" at the top of your lungs.
• I learned how lost you feel when you compromise one of the most beautiful, priceless relationships in your life.
• I learned that Michigan is known as the "mitten state."
• I learned that it is one-hundred percent possible to miss someone you've only met once, and are likely to never meet again.
• I learned that God walks on the Ocean floor.
• Finally, I learned that no matter how old you keep getting, you never stop learning new things.

2013 was a riotous stampede of rust and wreckage.

Thanks for the memories.

XoXo,

Hannah

The Day Before Thanksgiving

T-minus one hour and 13 minutes until Thanksgiving 2013, lovers.

I've been busy today, as is the rest of America.

Unconventionally busy, though.  This year is decidedly different from years before.  My family, for instance, is spending the holiday at the beach, and going out to eat to a nice restaurant instead of doing the big schabang with all of our extended relatives.

To be honest, folks, my family tree has seen its fair share of storms over the last 5 or 6 years.

Holding absolutely zero feet to the fire, let me just quickly (and honestly) say time has increasingly dwindled our numbers, there are few left to gather together.

My parents are tired of 40 years of large scale Thanksgiving dinners.  I can't say that I blame them.  The four of us (Moseby has adjusted nicely and is now a fully indoctrinated addition to our family) are headed to the coast for the holiday weekend, and I couldn't be more excited.

There's been a lot to reflect over, the past few weeks.

Particularly in the past few days, I've been pondering the meaning of the word 'unity', and probably for a myriad of different reasons. The word strikes me as suddenly beautiful, as though I've never heard it before.  It rolls off my tongue as I sound it out phonetically on my way to work in the mornings.

The past year, as was the forecast, was indeed a year of solitude.  Conversely, I'm beginning to hope and pray that the theme for next year will instead be one of unity, as I feel for some strange reason that God is laying this word on my heart in a touching, impacting manner.

Perhaps that's why I'm so excited to celebrate Thanksgiving away from home this year.  There is a lonely sort of solitude in sharing someone's memories, but there is a deep unity that accompanies sharing new experiences, and that is what I'm looking forward to over the next few days.

New experiences.

Today I came home from work and I cleaned out my car, bathed the pup, watched Love Actually, packed the pup, packed myself, ironed some clothes, and ignored the paper I have due on Sunday that I haven't really started on yet. Papers are important, yes, but tonight was made for something different.  This is a special night, the night before Thanksgiving.  This is easily one of my favorite nights of the year, although emotional in many ways.

While I was increasingly busy tonight, and getting lots of intermittent lovins' from my pup, I couldn't help but think about the few things that are always on my mind on nights like this.  My grandmother, thoughts of her are always near during the holidays; I feel her moving through my family with warmth and love. I thought back to Thanksgivings past.

Last year, I spent it with a beautiful family of co-workers as we weathered the rush-time shift between the hours of 6pm Thanksgiving evening and 2pm Black Friday morning.  That was one hell of a night to be a barista at the top-grossing Starbucks in the entire state, but it is one of my most favorite holiday memories to date.

Also last year, I spent the Friday after Thanksgiving, celebrating the large meal with my family, circled around the dinner table, holding my 1-month old sleeping niece in my arms and daydreaming about the boy I loved at the time.  It's funny now, how much my niece has grown in one year, and how that love has disintegrated into nothing but happy, distant memories. It's funny how things change.

The year before that my parents and I went out to dinner and came home to decorate the house for Christmas, while watching a campy horror movie my funny, lovely aunt got my dad for his birthday.  I believe it was called "Motel Hell." I was emotional at the thought that in a few short weeks, just after New Year's, I would be starting a new adventure and moving to the beach to attend Ecola.  I had no idea what God had in store for me.

Two years before that, my entire family was together.  There were so many bodies, we needed three tables. I remember smiling until my mouth hurt. I remember hugs, and laughter, and such deep, everlasting warmth.  A sheltering, comforting unity.

A unity that has since been put aside.

A unity that only God in his miraculous grace can restore.

A unity which sometimes, in moments of nostalgic remembrance, I deeply ache for.

Sometimes things happen in life that are neither expected or well-received.  They are not desired, not intended, not understood, not accepted.

And the shame, the guilt, the anger, the frustration, the trenches of hurt and miles of regret are impossible to navigate.

But tonight, I am reminded that while the past breeds disunity, the future demands unity, a perfect unity comprised in the ultimate reign of our God and King.

The future demands unity.  Unity is what this world is predestined for.  As long as we have Christ, we are steeped in unity, and while the past may be painful or impossible to forget, we must remember that there is hope shining at the end of the tunnel, like a bright beacon, guiding us into that perfect unity with Christ. Let us look to the future, and live in the momentous blessing which is every minute of our lives.

These are the special times, lovers.  Right now.  Right in the midst of pain, entrenched in the heart of suffering, battered by the blows of age and regret, we are united in Christ.

These are the special times.

Happy Thanksgiving, one and all.

Tell somebody that you love them, tomorrow.  Tell somebody that they are special to you.

I love you, and you, and you.

Goodnight.

Xx










 

Awake, O Sleeper

"Awake, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." -Ephesians 5:14

Well, lovers- I'm no longer dead.

I've alluded to an emotionally turbulent past few months in my recent posts, and I reaffirm that allusion here today.

I confess to you, lovers, that I have not been a shining example of that glorious, elusive Proverbs 31 woman as of late.  I have not been clothed with "dignity, and righteousness,"  nor have I been "laughing without fear of my future."

I have lived the past few months trembling, in constant fear and distress, and wallowing in a sick ball of my own debilitating self-absorption. I have lost sleep and sanity over simple matters of the heart which I am not proud to say have unmasked the depth of my weaknesses. My heart found itself in a place it was not ready to be, and I have spent quite a few sleepless nights crying my hurt out to God. 

But you see, I thought throughout all of my distress, that I was doing the right thing by leaning so heavily in the comforting arms of my Savior.  I thought that constantly complaining to God during my morning and evening commutes, throughout lulls in my work day, and every night before bed was healthy.  I thought that masking my discontent through prayers meant I was trusting in God to deliver me from my heartache.

Lovers, I was wrong.

Please don't misunderstand me.  When we go through trials, and suffer losses or unexpected hurts, we are to lean solely on Jesus Christ as our one, everlasting comforter.  This is an absolute truth.  I cannot, and will not deny this.

However, there's a fine line between grieving and wallowing.  My vulnerability in the eyes of my Lord gave way to crumbling selfishness and self-obsession, and I completely lost sight of my life, my purpose.

I forgot to focus on what brings joy in life.  I forgot to focus on the care of and attention to others.  I forgot to busy my mind with other things, good things- I forgot to strive to be a blessing to others and to be thankful for my current heart condition.

I forgot how to laugh.  I forgot to "count it all joy."

The worst part of this, is the fact that I only just realized my predicament last night.

It might seem stupid to say, but I realized it while I was sitting in my local theater by myself, watching an early evening showing of Thor 2: The Dark World.

A simple line delivered from the ridiculously attractive (Seriously, it's not fair) Tom Hiddleston  (cloaked as Loki in green with disgustingly suave greased hair... Yeah, okay, I'm not really sure I get my attraction to this character either... You learn something new about yourself everyday. I digress.)
anyway, this line was delivered during a heated argument with his brother, Thor, and it figuratively brought me before my knees as it drifted through my ears.

"Satisfaction is not in my nature."

Lovers, do you know what hasn't been in my nature over the past few months?

Satisfaction.

I have not been satisfied with the current situation in life that God has set before me.

I have been acting like a spoiled child, rolling around in their own ungrateful filth, upset that their desires have been refused, or postponed.

God, forgive my dissatisfaction.  Forgive my selfishness. You are enough.  You are enough.

The truth is, lovers, I have struggled with depressive anxiety for most of my post-adolescent life.

I go through good spells, and I go through bad spells.

Each bad spell gets progressively easier to go through, and my hope and prayer is that someday, I will no longer experience tailspins when things go awry as they tend to do every-so-often.  It's a work in progress, and it's a process that humbles me before Christ in more ways than I can count, so perhaps my anxiety is actually one of my greatest blessings.  Not sure I can let myself see it that way, yet, but who knows what the future will bring?

What I almost never seem to remember, however, through these bad spells, is that constant introspection is extremely unhealthy.

What I mean by that, is things are always at their absolute worst, when I spend most of my waking hours thinking about whatever it is I'm going through.  Financial stress, emotional stress, relational stress.  I tend to live my life constantly worrying about each of these areas, even when I am laughing, or seem happy.

I mask my stress extremely well, and thus most of those closest to me rarely know I'm on the brink of a break-down because I have auto-trained myself to be ridiculously self-sufficient and I turn people away when they try to get close.

This is horrendously wrong, and so is allowing myself to spend all of my internal thoughts on these forms of anxiety.  To be constantly introverted and constantly thinking about myself and my hurts, my losses, my sufferings, my misfortunes, my predicaments is repulsive.  It's absolutely repulsive and unfortunately it is one of my biggest tendencies and temptations in this life.

This pattern has caused me to be on various medications (albeit few prescription medications, mostly all-natural supplements in a variety of colors, size and lengthily-worded ingredients) over the past several years.  This in and of itself is something else I tend to struggle with, as I dislike feeling reliant on pills.  I feel weak as though I can't handle my own life, which in hindsight, isn't actually bad, thus being on pills for a relatively harmless life tends to make me feel like the worst sort of failure.

During the last bout I had with this depressive anxiety, I went to see my naturopathic doctor and she prescribed another series of supplements and vitamins.  I took them for a few weeks until the world felt less dark, and my stomach bloat went away, and then I shoved them far back in my bathroom drawer, trying to forget my dependence on them and to guide myself into the ways of being strong and self-sufficient instead.

Well, you know what lovers?  I can be real stupid sometimes.

Sure enough, a few months went by without the natural aids and as soon as the going got tough, my world went very dark and consequently I found myself in another tailspin, as I realized again last night while watching Thor 2. 

This dep-anx bout has been going on (amazingly, it's escaped my knowledge until now) for the past several months. I have been completely absorbed in unimportant matters; real matters, which have caused real pain within my body, and heart, I grant that, but unimportant all the same.

The cycle always looks the same: I start to sleep restlessly, soon I begin waking up for hours in the middle of the night.  I crave foods high in carb content and cut out natural proteins almost entirely (for the record, I almost never notice that I'm doing this). I become exhausted 24/7 and therefore have extremely low energy levels. I cease all forms of activity.  I start to put on weight and my face begins to break out. I get nauseating headaches from a starving, yet always full, stomach and I tend to find 3 good reasons to cry daily.

I am a walking nightmare to be around, and the oddity of it all is I rarely notice it's happening to me, until I have one of those epiphanies (such as the one I had last night) and then things slowly start to fall back into their proper places.

I started taking my supplements again about five days ago.  Already, the dark, suppressive cloud I've been living in seems to have lightened considerably. At some point, I've got to realize that my body needs these supplements.  There's nothing I can do about it, and there's nothing wrong with it, either.  Acceptance.  Acceptance.  Acceptance.

I'm sleeping through the night, and sleeping well.

I confess my sins of pride and overwhelming selfishness to God before you all as witnesses, and I deeply apologize to anyone who has been caught in the crossfire of my vicious cycle lately, particularly my family.  I am sorry I am not easy to live with.

Christ is shining on me today, lovers- just like He's shining on all of you, as well.

Don't loose touch with yourself, the way I have the past few months.

It's just not worth it.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

(Also, go see the new Thor movie.  It's eye-opening. ;) )

It's A Monday.

Happy Monday evening to you, lovers.

For some of us, this Monday evening looks like blaring Billy Talent and Sum 41 while cleaning the bathroom after enjoying a bowl-full of homemade risotto (thanks, dad) and  some red wine.

The Italians know how to relieve stress, no?

The following phrases have, admittedly, been uttered tonight by yours truly due to such Italian stress relievers.

"I'mma eat all these damn cookies."  (Spoken to no-one in particular.)

"I deserve this, man." (.... Also spoken to no-one in particular.)

And my personal favorite ".... Stoppppp, you're being rude." (Spoken to my computer's automatic update task manager).

What can I say?

Risotto, Coppola and circus animal cookies make me feel pretty talkative.

As I'm sitting here, waiting for the bathroom cleaners to get nice and sudsy on all my bathroom surfaces, I decided to take a few moments to focus on thankfulness.

'Tis the season after all, right?

1. I am thankful, tonight, for the healthy sounds of punk rock streaming out of my laptop speakers. (Some things never change.)

2. I am thankful for the cool bathroom floor on which I am currently laying as I wait for the cleaners to perform their chemical magic. (I promise, this is merely because I am lazy. It has nothing to do with the wine. What kind of person do you think I am? It's a Monday, for crying out loud.)

3. Strange to say, I'm thankful for bathrooms which need cleaning.

4. I'm thankful for Italy.

5. I'm thankful for gym shorts and My Chemical Romance t-shirts and best friend group texts.

6. I'm thankful, tonight, that I'm single. (Take note of that, because I may never say that again.)

Life is always good, even when it seems really hard.

Wouldn't you agree, lovers?

I love you all.

Goodnight.

Morning Song

Good morning, lovers.

I'm sitting at my kitchen table, sipping on a hot mug of Ethiopian blend from Water Avenue (There's that word 'Yirgacheffe' again)... Listening to the sounds of my father frying sausage and potatoes in a pan on the stove and the morning-banjo strums of the Avett Brothers singing us both into a fluid sort of calm.

It's currently 8:20am, even though my mind is certain it's really 9:20am, and I keep having miniature freak-outs every time I glance at the clock.  Daylight Savings Time has never been a close friend of mine.

I don't actually have a lot to say on this lazy Sunday early morning, except I do want to keep up the tradition of thankfulness as best that I can.

So here we go.

1.  Today I am thankful for the beautiful moments God sends our way, even though life is hard.

2. Today I am thankful for my orange coffee mug which recites Luke 1:47 "My spirit rejoices in God my Savior!"  

3.  Today I am thankful for the strength and grace of women like my mother.

4. Today I am thankful for mornings.

5. Today I am thankful for my church, which at the end of every week really does feel like a haven in a storm, which really reminds me of my purpose on earth as one of God's warriors and messengers.

6. Today I am thankful for the things which hurt our hearts, even if their sole purpose is just to remind us that we're human beings, not robots.

Finally, there are a few things that I'm 100% not thankful for, that I absolutely should be. I'm going to list them here as things you might consider praying about for me, on the off chance that I ever cross your mind. I can't tell you how much I would appreciate it, if you do.

1.  I am not thankful for cancer.

2. I am not thankful for distance.

3. I am not thankful for math.

4. I am not thankful, sometimes, for the plan God currently has for my life.  (This is another reason why I AM thankful for my church, because my convictions rise and my sins are forgiven every Sunday and throughout the week as well.)

5. I am not thankful for the way friendships change.

Alright, lovers.

That's all for today.

Thanks for reading, thanks for considering prayers, and enjoy your extra hour of worship.  Whether that be used for sleeping, praying, reading your bible, kissing your babies, or cooking breakfast for a loved one.

November Blue

Lovers,

The first day of a new month is always minty-fresh, isn't it?

Winter is coming, and I'm excited for the stark newness it always seems to bring with it.  The past three months have been rough, to say the least.  I can't help but remember late last year, when I forecasted 2013's theme as being one of "Solitude."

Over the past few months, I've felt the reality of that word in a maddening sense.  Solitude wasn't intended to mean isolation, but rarely do predicted emotions work out the way you intend them too.  "So it goes, so it goes. "

October is over.  It is done, it won't come around for another 12 months.  With it, I also say goodbye to the crisp tear-stained nights spent hugging my pillowcase in quiet moments of frustration, and I say goodbye to the crinkly sounds of Nat King Cole teasing my tired heart to sleep only to wake suddenly a few hours later in the deadest hours of night, worrying about things I cannot control. 

Goodbye, tiny hurts.  November marks the beginning of a new season in which I plan to practice thankfulness and exaggerated amounts of prayer. 

"Just a closer walk with thee, granted Jesus is my plea. Daily walking close to thee, let it be, dear Lord, let it be."

Life is spurring us all onward, lovers. 

For me, this looks like new papers to write and new classes to enroll in and Christmas holidays to be spent in warm places.  It looks like falling in love with my new puppy, Moseby.  (Photographs to come soon after his arrival into my arms next weekend.)  It looks like a few excruciatingly difficult conversations which God is prepping me daily for, despite my fears and hesitations on the changes those conversations might bring. It looks like unforeseen, exciting expansion at work, it looks like saying goodbye to life as I've known it over the past two years, and holding my own hands as I toddle carefully into the future. ( I can't hold your hand anymore, dearest, to keep me strong.  I have to hold my own now. I am sorry. )

It looks like singing hymns in the shower.  It looks like laughing again, really laughing.  It looks like new journeys, previously known as adventures. It looks like dressing up my puppy in sunglasses and capes and driving with him to new places. It looks like making the distinctive shift from freely sharing to carefully guarding my precious heart. It looks like sipping Water Avenue coffee in my pajamas while perusing Pinterest and setting new personal goals for my life.  (Such as: get a French Bulldog, marry a man with an impressive bearding ability, convince that man to build me my very own tree-house. For those of you wondering, I am 1/3 of the way there.  Or I will be as soon as Moseby comes home next weekend.)

It looks like letting go completely of the past two years and all their overwhelming significance on my life.  Yes, the past two years have changed me completely- I have come a strangely full 360 degrees since I left for Ecola two years ago.  Those years were beautiful, and life-changing, and they swelled and surged as powerfully as the stormy ocean they were set by....   But they're over.  They're over, just like the month of October is finally over, and I cannot cling to them as my buoy anymore. 

I must stand on my own two feet from now on.  My eyes cannot be turned over my shoulder, yearning for that one summer filled with those heartbreaking people anymore.  My eyes are upward, forward.  "My chains fell off, my heart is free- I rose, went forth and followed thee. "

It's freeing, and sharp, and scary, and sometimes I feel throttled by fear, but I know it is right.  It is good.  I am trusting the Lord, and that is all-consuming, as it should be.

Today I am thankful for the first day of a new month.

I am thankful for the emotional roller coaster this year has been.

I am thankful for hymns.

I am thankful for the word "yirgacheffe" even though I have no idea what it means.

I am thankful for this space and the words I choose to fill it with, words you are so loving and caring to receive.

Happy November, lovers.

An Adventure, Indeed.

Chapters end.  Pages, warped and water-stained and dog-eared and smudged with chocolate crumbs, well-loved and well-remembered, fall shut.  Books close.

You sit there, and you feel.

What do you feel?  So much.

Car doors slam shut on countless belongings.  The trunk is lowered.  Hands slap together to brush off the imaginary road-dust as if you're trying to shake the memorial residue off your body as well.

New town.  New faces.  New memories unmade.

Forget this town.  Forget what it means... But you can't.  You won't.  You couldn't, even if you damn well tried.

Adventures come so often in our lives, that we fail to even see them as adventures. Setting out on your daily drive to work, that's an adventure.  Who knows what you'll see on your way, or who you'll meet by the end of the day, or what tragic or magical blessings will befall you?

When the dishwasher stops working: adventure.

When the sun comes out after a long period of rain and calls you outside: adventure.

When the McDonald's you're currently stuck in the drive-thru of is only serving breakfast and you just want lunch:  adventure.  Although, mildly regrettable, I will allow.

When the people you love start leaving, one-by-one, to far-away places and you don't know when you'll see them again next: adventure, although, it will knock you off your feet, at the least.

When you mop the floors: adventure.

When you go cosmic bowling with your best friends: Super adventure.

When you move somewhere no-one knows your name, and the temperature is roughly 1,000 degrees hotter than you're comfortable with: adventure. I promise.

When someone you love says they're pretty sure you should stick together, forever and for always: adventure.

"When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when you're feeling sad...." : Favorite-Things-Adventure.

So go on, lovers.

Live through all the little adventures that come your way.

Life is changing a lot for a lot of us right now.  2013 has been a journey, to say the least.

It has been long and short. High and low, so low.  A lot of it has been really soft- and in its softness, there has been an incredible amount of sorrow.  Hearts are aching all around me, and sickness, brokenness, gaping, awkward rifts have been sown aplenty. Lord, where do we go from here?

When you go through a myriad of goodbyes that take place in a few, short months- the last goodbye always feels the hardest.

I think it feels the hardest because it's the one you've been leaning on the most- because it was the farthest away for the longest stretch of time.

"Well  I don't have to say goodbye yet. I still have so much more time."

But now it's come.  It's gone.  The imaginary road dust has settled.  They're off- they're gone, they're on the start of a brand new adventure.  Off to the races, as they say.

You're left.  You're the last one left.

You look around wearily at the city-world around you.  Knowing with the heaviest of hearts that you're not going anywhere with any of them any time soon, because your place is where you are.  Even though your heart is thousands of miles away, split into several distant, faraway places.

I close my eyes and I remember a place of warmth, and laughter.  A kitchen, full of soap suds and impossible-to-keep-clean-floors. A few candles in the dark-lit living room, due to the excess of busted lighting throughout the house. Guitar strumming from the corner of your kitchen counter- a body brushed against a light switch which keeps accidentally getting turned off. Another body sleeping soundly on a sofa much too small for his long legs. A best friend-love on her way home from work, ready to sit with a bag of baby carrots in her lap on the floor, reliving story after story about her day.  A few more close friend-loves on their way from various locations to group together for a night of warm Bible study and long conversation.  A pair of eggs in one pan, for the light-switch love who adds extreme amounts of sugar to his marinara, and a few slices of chicken in another pan, for the sleeping love who can't eat eggs.

My heart swells and falls.  Last summer was the most happy, most content, and most fulfilled I have ever felt in my life.  Right there, in that cruddy kitchen, in the middle of that creaky, smelly old house.  Cooking dinner for the blessed few people who have come to mean the most to me in my life.

All of those beloved souls are now flyaway souls, all in far corners of this continent. Away from my kitchen.  Away from my eggs.  Away from my arms.

And I remain.  In my grey city of Portland.

It's overwhelmingly sad to me, at times, thinking of how we all used to live within moments and seconds of each other, these faces that I saw every single day for the guts of a year. Every single day. 

One night, one of those same loves said to me, "This summer, I'm not even going to tell you goodnight, see you soon. I'm going to say see you tomorrow- because I just know that I'm going to see you every single day, no matter what. We're all going to be together. All summer long."

And he did.  Every hug. "See you tomorrow."  Plans, or not.

And we all were together.  Always.

And the reason it's sad is because I don't see their faces every day anymore- in fact, I've seen one face only 3 times in the past year.

From every single day, to 3 times in one year.

But there's beauty in sadness, lovers.  There always has been and there always will be.

Every one of those hearts holds one of the biggest parts of my own heart deeply in theirs, whether they're conscious of it or not. Those hearts have become a bigger part of me than I am, and for that I'm more than thankful.

I'll always have them- whether they are far or near, and in these adventures they've all been called to, I remain in Portland, miles away and possibly years apart from them, cheering and hooting and rooster-crowing in the rain, excited for them and proud of them and ready to support them in any way I can offer.

Content to remain in the dutiful prayers of someday, hopefully, being able to seat them all around my table again.  Laughing and eating and holding each other tightly to the one Rock we all have as our Anchor. 

What God has brought together, lovers, is a patchwork-quilted family.  A miserably happy band of miscreants and jesters, fighters and flighters, scaredy-cats and adventure hogs, ride or diers, live and let livers, "all you need is love,"-ers.

And I would be crazy to go anywhere that I could not take them with me. But you know what I  just realized?  They feel the same as I do and I know, because they show me constantly. I realize then, that even though they've all left and I don't know when we'll all be together again, they're taking me with them- just like I'm keeping them all here.

Which, I feel is a line from a really cheesy movie- but I can't remember which. Wait. No. That's definitely the ending to Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights.  Awkward.

Oh, this life, lovers.  What a crazy beautiful adventure, indeed.

Xx,

My loves,
My doves,
My eggs.