against the backdrop of sparkle

 

 

don't have to wait

with the countdown
thrumming in our heads
desperate really
to accomplish
make ready and then
show up
and
be merry

don't have to wait

when deep down inside
all the glitter cannot erase
the ache of a soul
when life doesn't deliver
and the season
bringing heartache
against the backdrop
of sparkle

don't have to wait

because

this furious longing
of God for us

indescribable
beyond our wildest desires
captivating
untamable

a love affair
for all the ages 

full of
infinite tenderness
and
amazing grace

gifts
larger than ourselves
or any wish list
delivered to our door

already

for broken hearts
and broken hope
covered up with
tinsel and wrapping
until
it is all but
unrecognizable

so deep the longing
driving us

but

this hound of heaven
relentless

to unwrap our messy
heal our broken
and calm our desperate

with his love
full of mercy

born in a stable

on this very special night

don't have to wait

anymore

big beautiful yes

monday morning

filling full with
expectations
flinging
with wild abandon
around
in my head

routine crashing
into the yearning
deep
to get out of jail
free
and live joyous
serendipity

because sometimes
most of the time
wanting to grab
that camera
and get in the car
and go

anywhere

to breathe in the deep
beauty-filling
living-in-the-joy
moments
of pure freedom
and creative bliss

and the being reminded
today in the early

it is God

who created
and planted in us
this yearning deep
and

it is stunning

considering even
the possibility

of living wildly grateful
a daily celebration
deep within the soul
transforming

on a monday
mundane
or any day
and in every season

this big beautiful yes

to life

and chasing beauty

Wynde!

here

celebrating

the terrible beauty
of a coastline
in the mighty grip
of a nor'easter

and grateful

this time

for being spared

snapping photos
and bracing the wind
laughing

while elsewhere

devastation

and our hearts are mindful

it is a fine line

and every day

a gift

 

 

 

 

 

 

. . .  chasing beauty 

a groom and his bride

anyone could

as we assemble

all the pieces of our days
into something
recognizable or not
way too often
lured into thinking
it's all about me

even though

would emphatically deny
such a perspective

but really

built into the fiber

of my restless, numbing
aching and sometimes
rebellious heart

all to often

minute by minute

it's all about me

and desiring
to live full and joyous
and God - centered

because really

all about Him

His creation and power
and glory

and so assembling
the pieces of a life
not into a tower for my own name
which we all know
would only crumble

but running

headfirst

into

His story

continuing to be written
each day; an epic

played out for all time

and anyone could play my part

so great
the enormity of God

all up to me

sometimes

losing my way

thinking
all up to me

when really

stopping to exhale      
trust
and let go

listening to the music
of the spheres

coming through my window

reminding

this planet on an  axis
spinning perfectly

and me spinning

really not necessary

but sitting in the still
in the quiet
restoring a life
a soul

giving back perspective

and a life
to be lived a little
at a time

with gratitude
and trust and
worship

my own striving

quieted

on the wings of
ordinary
everyday splendor

Glory

rising

to meet my lack

summertime slow

and I will be ready

when you come for me

to go down

by the sea

breathing deep

of the slow

and 

hugging the warm

breezes stiff of salty air

horizon deep

blue kissing blue

as the orange ball unfurls

from it's place on high

going down 

so slowly

the magnificent 

beckoning twilight

swirling colors

across the expanse

stars appearing

in deepening blue

easing the hurry             

in summertime slow

just can't wait

 

 
my girl and I
caught a flight
and chased
the merry blue
into the clouds
and out again

laughing together

and landing

discovering
all things new
swirling
in our head

because

always

always

catching a flight

and

time away

changing us
into better
for having

autocorrected

away from ourselves
our mundane

into

the depth of others
colliding with our worlds

bringing

perspective
inspiration
relationship

and just can't wait
to catch another

into the merry blue

and out again

Everyday ordinary

 

Chasing after
in the everyday ordinary

beauty

where
Glory revealing itself.

And me snapping

and being

amazed
happy
content

in the midst of broken.

Because
the things of this world
can break
our hearts.

But God always

in the work
of
transforming
redeeming

and making beautiful

what is.


 

 

 

 

 

 

Those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer . . .

                            

         
                                                              Ten On Ten
                                                               July 2015

 

 

  

 

 

Coloring beautiful

It's been raining all week.
This.  The first of June.
After a spring full of chilly.
And skies colored in gray.
Walking around still.
Tucked inside our fleeces.
Shivering.  Anticipating.

And much of life like that.

The wait.  And the.
Hope.
That things will change.
And get better.  

And yet days continue.
Full of chilly.

And gray.

Situations falling apart.
Expectations unfulfilled.
So often.

But.

I'm learning.

There is a certain beauty.

For a day in June.
Full of translucent sky.
And muted color.
With summer on pause.

And our lives.

Despite the longing.
For something more.

Filled full.
With gratitude.

For even days of gray.
And rain.  And what is.
Coloring beautiful.
Outside the lines.

Just happy

Took a ride.
Into the country.

On a warm afternoon.

In May.

So welcomed.
This warm.
Sunlight splattered.
Trees gently swaying.
A canopy of green.
Blue sky peeking.
Occasionally.

And pulling in. 
Joining the others.
Walking together.
Toward the riverbank
and trees tall.
Framing the venue.

All dressed up.
So much pretty.
And handsome.
And colors galore.
The hues of summer.
Splashed around. 

Laden with gifts.
And small talk.
And moving as one.
Toward the pavilion.

Gentle conversation.
And warm greetings.
Wafting and garbled.
Across the river.

And then.

Laughing suddenly.

In delight.

The groom among us.
So full of smile.

And his answer.
To a question.
While we gather round.

No.  No. 
He laughs.

Not nervous. 

Just happy.

And these words.
Taking me back. 
Having said the same.
Years ago now. 

In May.
 
We all take our seats.
As the music begins.

And the attendants.
Forecasting her arrival.
Appearing one by one.
Lovely women in lace.
And creamy beige.
And little girls.
Throwing rose petals.
 
Then the bride.

Walking down that aisle.

And we mesmerized.
By her beauty.
In a simple Victorian gown.
With a lace train.

And boots on.

Seriously sweet.
Perfect even.

Toward her Mr. Darcy.

No bride.
Has ever been more beautiful.

And the groom.
Barely able to contain his joy.
Unflinching.
And chivalrous.

With the wind rustling.
And sunlight dappling.
Finally.
They are pronounced.
Husband and wife.

Kissing exuberant.
And we.
Laughing and clapping
and filling full the happy.
An afternoon of joy.

It is a mystery.

And when it happens.

We marvel. 

His girl a tangle of sweet.
And saucy and real.
And we laugh some more.
At the adventure ahead.
For them.

Sharing life.
The real and the funny.
Things we can't hide.
Anymore.
Learning each other.
Foibles and complexities.
Life itself; messy.

But the One who created.

Is front and center.
Of these newly married.

And so the best gifts.

Not on the table.

But in their hearts.

Having discovered years earlier.

His unconditional love.
And His amazing grace.

And the wedding.

In May.

Just a snapshot.
Of things to come.
When all is returned.
To it's former glory.

So.  Certainly.

No need to be nervous.

Just happy.

But He did

 

 

Everyone wonders.
Why the stuttering fool.
Cannot get over.
The story of grace.

Smacked in the face.
With the wonder of it.
My lack so desperate.
And His love so beyond.

Figuring out.

And the wonder of creation.
Mysteries so stunning; stupefying even.
Things beyond the naked eye.
Photos revealing the heavens.

Star clusters and galaxies.
And reams of color thrown around
like a madman happy and
exuberant and free.
Creating glory and miraculous.

Beauty pointing.

Like a road sign. 

Because every single day.
While distracted with life.
Living daunted.  In our own story.
Sometimes shaken.

There is order. 
Our world governed.  And ruled.
By holy.

Stars in the heavens.
Planets spinning.
Sun coming up.  Setting.
Winter turning to spring.
And the tide going out .
Again.

All under.  His control.

His creation.  His palette.  His art.

Glory. 

And Grace.

And I lift up my eyes to the hills.
And to the heavens.

And every single time.

Smacked in the face.
With the wonder of it.

I never could have thought it all up.

But He did. 

When sometimes

 

I can't and I don't know sometimes.
But I do try.
To figure out this good life.
One day at a time.
Being joyous and living grateful.
It is a choice.  I know.

But there are so many.
Choices.
And it makes my head spin.
To understand.
Where to go and what to do.

So much of the time.

When sometimes.
Honestly.

All I really want to do.

Is dance crazy with abandon.
Singing loud. The lyrics.
Like a rock and roll singer.
On a stage. 
In my living room.  My kitchen.
The dog cowering.
But dancing nonetheless.

When sometimes.
All I really want to do.

Is put on my smock and paint.
Bold strokes and big color.
Canvas large upon an easel.
Paintbrushes dripping hues.
Paint all over me.

And the final product.
Well. Could have spent more time.
On it.  Someone tells me.

What the dickens!

When sometimes.
All I really want to do.

Is run through a meadow.
And explore the streets.
And the passageways. Of a village.
Faraway.  Or here at home.
Snapping photos. 
Like a wild woman all giddy.
Thinking I've discovered.
This art.  And these places.

When sometimes.
All I really want to do.

Is sit in a beach chair.
Sand warm and breeze gentle.
Beach bag full; books and a journal.
To write.  To read.  Undeterred.
Pens and pretzels and pizza.
Gulls screaming.  Waves breaking.
The language of summer calling.

When sometimes.
All I really want to do.

Is paddle down a river.
With tributaries to explore.
All silence except the small splash.
Of an oar.  In a canoe.
Heart beating wildly for adventure.
Might as well be the Amazon.

When sometimes.
All I really want to do.

Is cook pasta. Chop up some basil.
Simmer some sauce.  A glass of wine.
Friends and family filling the table.
Laughing.  Sharing.  Supping.
And around that table; authenticity.
Speaking grace.  Freeing the soul.
To breathe deep and calm.

For I am a crazy wild romantic.
Kind of girl.
And I thank my man for loving me.
Because.
It's an ordeal sometimes. 

For him.  I'm sure.

Complicated and messy and just too.
Everything.

But no longer making excuses.

No longer trying so much.
To march in formation.  Soldier-like.
At attention.  All tense.
And performance-like.

Just cause my dad thought so.

But he didn't live it.
He just commanded it.

From his place at the rudder.
Commanding ships around the world.
Chasing his dreams.  Chasing beauty.
Never marching to anyone's beat.

He never did; living to 103.

And I can't.  Either.

March to orders and fall in line.

That is because.

All I really want to do.
Is be the person the Joy-maker.
Made me to be.

And so I will.

Greet each day.
Throw open the shutters.
Welcome the beautiful. 
Being grateful.

For there is always. 
Something beautiful. 
Even in the midst of hard days. 
Something to be grateful for.
To appreciate.

It is a decision.  Every day.

To sing happy.  And dance.
With sauce on your face.
And to get out the paints.

And paint.