thanksgiving

Dress: Ruche, Necklace (remixed): LOFT

Despite the fact that it didn't really feel like Thanksgiving this year because I didn't watch any Thanksgiving Friends episodes, I still have an enormously long list of things to be thankful for. And I also dyed the ends of my hair purple, so check that off the list!

It has been a difficult few months which makes Thanksgiving all the more necessary. It's just a reminder, really. Gratitude and appreciation are daily intentions, but Thanksgiving is a feast to celebrate those good qualities. Actually sitting around with family and friends, declaring the abundance of blessing. I'm personally in favor of instituting more feasts into the year, maybe monthly, but I'm not the one who cooks and prepares them so I should probably tread lightly. Also, monthly feasts would be a terrible idea for my health goals this year. 

We had a marvelous day split between my husband's family and mine, plenty of good food and wonderful people. We were missing a few siblings on both sides, which made us feel a bit incomplete. But one of my favorite things about Thanksgiving is the happy swarm of extended family that we're able to hug and visit with. The families are growing so much, it makes it incredibly difficult to be all together at one time. It's one of those bittersweet tinges of growth. 

This year I was (am) abundantly thankful for:

my faith

my husband

arizona

my parents (and generosity)

coffee

friends, new and old

an incredible family

sisterhood

coffee

dresses

long-distance friendships

mexican food

good books (and my book club!)

a job that i love

cats

the growth found in change

the stamps of life

writing

coffee

making goals and having dreams

the sound of my parents' christmas tree

travel memories

chocolate-covered pretzels

fabulous movies

benedict cumberbatch

beautiful music 

good humor

and so much more...

Gratitude is such a funny thing. It's easily overlooked, isn't it? If we truly sat down and did as Andy Griffith requested and counted our blessings, they would be incredibly overwhelming. The more I sit here, the more things I can think of that I love and appreciate in my life. And yet darkness feels so much denser than the light. We get easily pulled down, easily discouraged, and over time we very easily forget.

Gratitude should be an action. It's a quality that we have to define for ourselves. Perhaps some people are naturally more thankful than others, but I happen to think it takes a lot of hard work for each of us. Gratitude is defined by a readiness. Readiness to be kind. Readiness to show appreciation. Readiness to see the light. It isn't easy but it's a beautiful, contagious kind of alertness. 

We are told to be ready and prepared, and I think part of that is to always be ready to give thanks. Always. Let the words of gratitude be literally on the edge of your lips, saturating your tongue and your eyes and your ears at all times. If gratitude was glitter, I pray to be a dang disco ball. Wouldn't that be lovely? A party of disco balls. I wanna be those people. Don't you?

stamps of life

I was thinking the other day about how life leaves scars.

It's a common concept, this idea that we're all constantly healing from, repressing or feeling the residual scar tissue of past pains and heartbreaks and memories. Sometimes they're seen as a good thing - these invisible (or sometimes quite visible) marks of trial and error, betrayal and tragedy. Learning experiences that make us stronger in the end.

This is a little bit different than my posts on clothes and movies and books (which I still love to write about), but sometimes this blog is a reservoir of my thoughts and various rabbit hole adventures. Other stories that come from perhaps a deeper place inside my mind.

As I thought about life's scars, my mind began to tumble down that rabbit hole and eventually led me into a gallery of imagined people. I'm there too, and we're all covered in our vivid white scars, wounds of all shapes and sizes. What do they mean? Where did they come from?
I then started thinking of other invisible markings we may have. If we have marks from the troubling and painful times, shouldn't we also have markings to prove our triumphs?

I began to imagine the white scarred skin covered by stamps of color. The people became hosts to a vivid myriad of high-resolution experiences. Stamps made from words of love, traveling and discovery, blossoming friendships, victories, memories, and more. Stamps of flowers, maps, pictures, places, people, things. Tattooed from head to toe by the blessings.

It's kind of a miraculous picture in my mind. Because I think sometimes those scars can be pesky. They can be blinding. Just like our daily imperfections that preoccupy and frustrate us. Just like that story in the Bible where Elisha and his servant are surrounded by their enemies in the mountains, and Elisha asks the Lord to open his servant's eyes. When He does, the servant is dumbstruck to discover that the hills are packed with horses and chariots of fire - an army of angels standing guard around them. There is so much we cannot see and do not know.

There are two very basic things I learn from looking at my own stamps and scars.

1. This World is Broken
2. There is Hope

This world is broken and always will be. It's called sin and if you don't know about it, I suggest taking a look at the definition. You can't walk out your door without garnering a cut or a bruise - there are sharp weapons shooting across the air at every moment. It's a dangerous place to be.

But there is Hope. And His name is Jesus. He has scars too, because He was magnificent enough to walk in this world and is living proof of its weapons. His scars are real. If you don't know about Him, then welcome to the Truth, my friend. He is the author of those stamps of life, and I guarantee He's already made some on you. You may call them blessings or luck or karma but those are just empty shells assigned to the true source.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and brings so many thoughts of family and memories and above all, gratitude. Second best to gratitude are my grandma's mashed potatoes. But even in my short 26 years this life has managed to scar me. And I have been renewed, every time, by a brilliant stamp. Scars are real and they sometimes last for a long time, but there are things that are bigger and better. Things of color and life. Like purpose in Christ, like truth, like eternity.

I generally know what my scars are and how I got them, but I'd like to think that if you put on those magical glasses (or those God-given eyes) that allowed you to see life's many marks on my skin, I'd be a radiant kaleidoscope of color.

the tapestry bag

The tale of this tapestry bag probably begins a long time ago, way back when I first saw Anne of Green Gables. My desire for one has only increased over the years, and when I finally got around to reading Anne of Green Gables, it was settled.

Matthew, however, was spared the ordeal of speaking first, for as soon as she concluded that he was coming to her she stood up, grasping with one thin brown hand the handle of a shabby, old-fashioned carpet-bag; the other she held out to him....

"Oh, I can carry it," the child responded cheerfully. "It isn't heavy. I've got all my worldly goods in it, but it isn't heavy. And if it isn't carried in just a certain way the handle pulls out--so I'd better keep it because I know the exact knack of it. It's an extremely old carpet-bag. 

Sweater (shop!)/Tapestry Bag (sold out): Ruche, Bottoms: Thrifted, Necklace: Anthropologie, Shoes: Urbanog, 

Of course, this particular bag isn't extremely old and doesn't contain all of my worldly goods in it. But it certainly could, and the dreamer in me just has to close her eyes and grasp the handles to imagine the life-changing adventure that is about to occur -- just my tapestry bag and me.

There's something about having this tapestry bag that makes me feel really grown up.

I packed it up for our Thanksgiving weekend with friends, and I loved feeling put together for once. We've always survived on mismatched and hand me down suitcases, which have always done the trick just fine. Dusty and I have a random stack of bags under our bed, and we usually just cram everything into one bag whenever we travel.

But having something cute and folksy that's all mine is kind of lovely all on its own. A bag just for weekends, those special short trips reserved for close-by mini adventures or holiday getaways. 

This sweater is also one of my favorite new things from Ruche, and I have already worn it a little too often lately. The bows and pearls are so sweet! 

I guess I was feeling a little retro yesterday because I parted my hair down the middle for the first time in many years. I was overwhelmed with how much I look like my mom. I kept picturing a photo of her when she was around my age, with her long straight hair, parted down the middle and all. I couldn't ask for a more lovely look-alike, but it made me miss her something fierce.

We're basically twinsies, except for my chin and sense of humor which belong to my dad. 

I think I'll keep up the middle-part for a while longer. :)