in my house

if you pushed open the front door of She today, you'd see and hear many things.

please come in. stay
awhile. come & see.
(all images linked
to their sources.)

this morning i stood with still-damp hair in the quiet stillness of my room. i heard a siren screaming and my eyes locked onto the tiny purple dolphin sticker i'd put on my wall, right above my bed. i wondered whose life was changing because of that siren.

the shadow of a bird flying by my window broke my train of thought. i looked at the tiny white porcelain horse on my bedside table and went to pick out a skirt. life goes, and keeps going. it does and it must.

it is a season of death, of pulling lies out by their roots and kneeling in the broken earth. for the longest time nothing was planted, there was nothing to hold the soil together again. my landscape has been littered with distrust and abandonment and i've watered the entire destroyed garden with my tears. instead of cultivating the weeds though, my grief and sadness have slowly withered the ugliest plants and flooded them out. { this perspective on tears inspired by these words. }

so with all my strength i have sought out seeds, the right ones: seeds of truth, encouragement, honesty, and love. and after weeks of searching and sowing and more tears (tears do nourish the good seeds), by God my garden has sproutlings. and from the fullness of his grace i have received one blessing after another . . .

last night i made friends. and instead of feeling slightly sad that they are married and i am the furthest thing from such communion with another, i thought, the best thing about making friends with married people is that i instantly have TWO friends instead of one.

"do you want to get together sometime?" i asked, afraid she would say no.
"yes!" she said immediately. "we'll cook for you!"
"oh!" i was surprised. i was excited.
"what's going on?" her husband asked, attracted by all the exclamations.
"she's coming for dinner," she said.
"oh!" he smiled. "when?" and got out his planner.

we planned a date and this morning when i opened my email, there was a message from them with confirmation of the date and time, and directions to their home. i have been found. i am blessed.

"thanks for asking," she said last night.
"oh," i said again, because i didn't know what to say,
but inside i was thinking, you have no idea.

to be touched, to be known, to be lifted up. these almost-strangers' hands upon me, strengthening me, comforting me, acknowledging my brokenness and welcoming it at the same time. there was no shame in weeping, no shame in my face crumpling. i bent my head and they drew in closer, i could hear the scraping of their chairs. i didn't even need to ask, but i suppose my tears asked for me.

the nearness of other human beings is often something i have loathed. now i realize i never wanted it because i believed that no one would ever desire to touch me. eventually i knew the physical nearness of another and grew to embrace it. but once again i've been cast aside, unwanted and untouched, and again i dread being near anyone. for when i am near others, i miss the assurance of love through touch. i sense my unwantedness and isolation so acutely.

but there was something different about it this time. i was healed by the hands of those i barely knew whose touch i never could have expected. i embrace it. i am seen. i am held.

new friendships, new partnerships, new collaborations. i'm bursting with it. i have big dreams. there's a white in my soul and someone keeps putting up fresh coats of it, brightening my insides more each day. and this isn't to say i am without shadow, for the greys reveal dimension, depth, and perspective. i am not without my sadness, i always carry it with me. but now,

i carry my joy on the left
i carry my pain on the right
{ bjork }

deep breaths, deep cries, deep gulps, deep love.
{ mme. everkind }