Quiet, Answered Prayers & Friggin' Miracles

Its been a little quiet around here because I've been extremely busy. I'll have some new things to say this weekend. :)

In the meantime, one of the reasons, besides being busy, that I haven't posted is that two weeks ago, I found out that someone near and dear to my heart, who means a great deal to many, was in the ICU and not doing well. In fact, the news I was getting was dire.

Her husband was sent home from Afghanistan. In fact, he was home faster than any Marine I have ever heard about. Ever. While I'm not sure if I want to post her name here or not, I will say that she had a stroke and she was in a life and death battle.

She has occupied my heart and mind for two weeks and I'm so very thankful to report tonight that she's just a friggin' miracle. In a coma, once she'd passed the worst, the doctors said it would be weeks and months before she may come out of that coma. She's officially out of that coma. And not only that, but she's been moved from the ICU.

It was hard to think about anything else besides her, her husband and their daughter (and work, which demands my attention). I'm thankful - so very thankful that she is doing so well compared to the news I got two weeks ago tonight. While I can't begin to explain or understand why God answers some prayers and not others, what I know for sure is that He is doing amazing things right now, answering big prayers and doing things no one expected in this situation.

And while I can't go visit her in the California desert, my heart, prayers and mind are with her.

Restless

"I’ll be waiting
Anticipating
All that I aim for
What I was made for
With every heartbeat
All of my blood bleeds
Running inside me
Looking for you"

.

Priorities

“I’ll tell you what I do want. I want someone who will be monogamous, and nice to his mother. And I want someone who likes musicals but knows to just shut his mouth when I’m watching Lost. And I want someone who thinks being really into cars is lame and strip clubs are gross. I want someone who will actually empty the dishwasher instead of just taking forks out as needed, like I do. I want someone with clean hands and feet and beefy forearms like a damn Disney prince. And I want him to genuinely like me, even when I’m old. And that’s what I want”. –Liz Lemon (30 Rock) 

One day

http://holyprepster.tumblr.com/post/51522597101

Grace in Alone

Seagulls squawk something awful. Ever since watching Finding Nemo all I hear when they do is, "mine, mine, mine." There are seagulls everywhere here. Union Point Park, which is just a quick couple minute walk from my house is like seagull central. People feed them - all day long, every day. And from the chaise lounge, in my little living room, they are squawking through my open window. "Mine, mine, mine." Though I could and would do it if I had to or was asked to do so, I'd hate to live out of seagull range in spite of that racket.

Through my open window, the bells at Christ Church of New Bern, toll. The church, founded in 1715, looks like it stepped out of the pages of a novel I'd read about the south as a child. Spanish moss drips from the trees in its gloriously shaded and green courtyard. And every time the bells toll, even several weeks after first moving into this tiny little place, I think the world is good.

Pollock Street, also steps away, is home to some quaint bed & breakfasts. They are in sweet, two-story homes named for their original owners. They open their doors to weekend guests and tourists visiting this colonial capital of the Old North State. When I walk through town I see their guests, strolling hand in hand through the downtown - towards Union Point or the marina or towards the shops.

More often than not, I see people together. Families. Couples. On my walk this morning, I saw an African American man, a grandfather, with quite the collection of little boys. One was calling out to him - asking questions, "Pa Pa, can I?" And, "Pa Pa, when are we?" And, "Pa Pa, do you?" Out they came, the questions, tumbling out so fast he should have tripped over himself he talked so fast. Two little ones followed behind Pa Pa. The older one, probably four, held the little one's hand (he was probably two). He pointed at Abby, the little man, and said, "Doggy!" And then he smiled and waved at me, happy as a clam on an adventure, walking along the marina as if it was the greatest day of his life. 

Though there are others on walks alone or with their dogs, I imagine them going home to busy houses with roommates and families and friends and lovers. I think about their stories - all of them. The ones that are alone on their walks and the ones that walk hand in hand or with their children toddling along. And I wonder how I got here. Alone.

But when I get home and I write a scene that is filled with pain and grace and hope and joy, I am grateful that I have been given the grace of a life that has not been easy because He has words for me to share from that place. I am grateful that I've had to work hard for every little scrap. And I am grateful that when I walk hand in hand with him, I will know what it means to live simply and with gratitude for I know how hard it was to get there.

All around me - these sights and sounds, they're reminders of grace. They're reminders that beauty exists around every corner. And though I wait, I do so while living a beautiful life.

You

You. I don't know if I know you. Maybe I do? Maybe we've never met. Maybe we see each other every day? Maybe I won't meet you for three more days. Or weeks. Or months. I don't know what you look like. Or maybe I do? I don't know what you're doing now or tomorrow. But I know one thing for sure . . . I'm praying for you.

I also know that we will be a force to be reckoned with. You and I. Tomorrow, five weeks from now or longer, I'll be waiting. And I'll keep praying for you.

Blah, Blah, Blah

I write here about love and all that crap, I suppose a need for another disclaimer is necessary as it seems that there are some new folks that have been landing here lately.

There is no dude in my life. There is no one loving me on the other end of my musings. I write fiction. I write love stories. I've been moved to write a lot lately about what I see is the perfect, not-perfect love.

Call it fiction. Call it a vision of what I hope for. Call it dreaming. Call it hope. But it all comes down to this . . . whether I write it about it or hope for it in my own life, I want messy, imperfect, simple yet life-altering love.

All of the posts of recent months have been sending me closer and closer to formulating a new novel. As has my own personal life. Sometimes, for a writer, inspiration is around every corner. Sometimes, it's hiding under a rock and you don't find it until you trip over it, stubbing your toe and breaking your wrist when you catch yourself.

That would be me. I've recently tripped over a rock and broken my wrist as I caught my fall. Sometimes, life has to hurt a writer, knock her around a little, before she catches on and realizes what it is that she's supposed to be writing.

I see it. But it may take a little more random meanderings around this space before I fully formulate where I need to go with the new novel.

It's gonna...

take "a lot more than just fancy flying..."

~

"When I am with you, there is nowhere else I’d rather be. And I am a person who always wants to be somewhere else."

- David Levithan

Blessings

I moved recently. It wasn't exactly an easy decision. But it was the best one. I was spending a boatload of cash on a place that was way too much house for just little ol' me. I have things I want to save for and spending all of that money on a house I never felt at home in, never made sense, especially after my serious cut in pay via the lovely payroll tax increase of January 2013 (thank you, Mr. President).

I moved to a condo. It's much smaller. And that has been a little annoying to adjust to. I'm still not quite there. There are still too many boxes unpacked and too many things out of place. But in defense of this tiny space, I'm sitting at my kitchen table right now with a little bit of a view of the Neuse River.

I'm living in downtown New Bern (featured in more than one Nicholas Sparks novel - He lives here.). The Neuse, a river I grew to love and know well, while living on it just outside of Havelock, NC, is across the street. Union Point Park, a place I've loved since I first moved here in 2001 is about a block away. I am steps away from one of my favorite stores and the rest of historic downtown. I've walked two miles, nearly every day since I got here. It's hard to turn down that time when my views are so incredible. The truth is, I've already fallen irrevocably in love with living in downtown New Bern.

When I began writing my list of thirty-seven things that I wanted to do in 2013, I included taking a class/classes on wine. I just so happen to live across the street from an awesome little store that does just that. I've been to a wine tasting and a class already.

There are things I would like to see happen in 2013. Things I don't really have full control over. And sometimes, when I write about certain topics, it appears as though I'm not quite content. The truth is, I'm incredibly grateful for the blessings in my life. I am, truth be told, overwhelmed by the beauty of this place, thankful for God's way of blessing me in greater ways than I imagined and for the joy of serving in a way that is meaningful.

My life is filled with so many blessings. I am incredibly grateful.

You & I {part 2}

You don't give yourself enough credit. I see in you a greater man than I think you see in yourself. I want you to see what I see when I look at you. I know the moment that I knew. As you stood there, oblivious that I sat there falling for you, I was convinced that you were something special - like once in a lifetime special. Do you believe that about yourself?

I used to think that people who wrote their own wedding vows were lame. Somehow, when I think about you and I, there's a million and one things I can think of, some serious and some not so serious that I'd like to promise to you. One thing I know for sure about you and I? We are parts of a whole, you and I.

I would like to find an endless number of ways to make you smile, because I love your smile that much. We speak without words and even if we can say whatever we need to say, whenever we need to say it, I don't want us to lose this. Like ever. I want to go grocery shopping with you. And hold your while we drive to dinner. I need to take road trips with you. And I need you to laugh at me when I'm rambling and waxing poetic about the countryside stretched out before us. And then I need you to kiss me for rambling and waxing poetic about the countryside stretched out before us.

When you are crabby, and in need of lunch or possibly a nap, I will be annoyed at your surliness. And then I will feed you and send you to bed. And then I will snuggle in close beside you because in good moods and bad, you are my favorite person. Like ever. I will pretty much never get over being chosen by you.

I want to walk through the neighborhood with you - hand in hand or not. Either way, I don't care. As long as you're there. Teach me. Let me show you. Trust me. And do not let the past interfere with the future before us. I am not what was. I am what is and will be. I need to have coffee with you in the morning. I need you to tell me you love me. Words. I need your words. And then I need you to put your hand on the small of back {and leave it there} when we're in a room full of people. I need you to reach for my hand under the table. And when no one is around, I need you to still do all of that.

When something about the future is unknown and we feel the stress increase, I can't promise you that I won't feel it. I can't promise you that I'll take every event and moment without fear or worry. I may not always be so easy to be around. You won't either. But I can promise you that even if I don't feel like it, I will work my way through it with you. The hard way. Keith Urban sings about that. "So I guess we'll have to do it the hard way."

I once met this sweet elderly lady {Miss Elsie}. I had the privilege of getting to know her over several days. You know how there are those people that impact you over time? And then there are others who breeze in and out of your life but leave a lasting impression? Miss Elsie breezed in and out but I'll never forget that dear heart!

She called her husband, her "beau." His name wasn't Beau. She referred to him as her "beau" because at eighty-something, with a heart condition that would take her from this world before she was ready to go and living on oxygen to get by, she had learned the secret to loving well. Her husband doted on her. She adored him. With adult children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, she spoke of her "beau" with a sparkle in her eye and a smile on that sweet face of hers. You would have thought she was 21. She had lived well. And they had loved well. At the end of life, she appeared to me, to love her beau with a freshness and vitality that did not match her years or frailties.

I'll never forget her. Or what I learned from her. Sometimes I think of her and her beau when I think about us. Here's what I promise you, thanks to what I learned from Miss Elsie, you will always be my beau. I'm sure I don't know what that all means now, or what it will take to get us there. But that's what you can expect from me. In return, promise me this one thing? In the dark and the light, when life is good and when life is challenging, you will reach for me.


Photo by: http://www.sxc.hu/profile/Dawson

You're All I Need

Blurry

I know the exact moment it happened. There were flashes and hints of its approach. But the moment? I know it exactly. You didn't know anyone could see you. You stood alone in a room. I looked up from what I was doing to see you standing there, oblivious to the world around you. As you got lost in the moment, I saw your heart. I saw the you that's you when no one is watching. I knew then that my heart wouldn't be the same. I knew then that I loved you.

You know how the rain blurs a window? The view of the outside world that you have through a clean window is a perfect reflection of what is just beyond the glass. But on a rainy day, the world is a little distorted. The drops, as they fall, change the way the world looks. You know what you're seeing - they're not so completely changed. Yet, they're altered just enough that your view is dream like.

I am looking through a blurry rain drop covered window right now. My heart just can't make out the scene in front of me. I see only in part. I will never be the same. I don't know if I want to be the same. I can't see clearly enough through the rain to know if hope is needed here where it's darkest or if logic and reason should rule?

What I know for sure is that my heart won't be the same. What I know for sure is that I love you. Blurry windows or not. I want desperately for the rain to stop, the drops to dry and for my view to become clear again. This is my prayer now - that the blurry images would crystallize. 

And my prayer, above all others, is that your heart would see clearly too.

Chaos

This afternoon, as I drove past a stretch of highway that has become so very familiar. I noticed that the growing pine trees to my left were a mess and jumble of chaos. Like I wrote about in this post in 2010, this area had been cleared, the logs loaded onto the crazy trucks that barrel down our two-lane, eastern Carolina back roads.

I always hate driving past an area that has been cleared of pines. I mean . . . I really hate it. But there's this thing here  {they exist in other states too} called a tree farm. Pines are replanted after harvesting and eventually fill in the desolate landscape, only to be harvested again later. The thing about the tree farms {at least here} is that the pines are lined in a painfully perfect way. When they grow to a certain height, above the forest floor, it's almost humorous how perfect their rows are. It's unnatural.

When I drove past that stretch of road this afternoon, with the small pines, you couldn't see the rows. It was just chaos. It didn't look orderly like one of the other tree farm areas just up the road. It was messy. There's such a cacophony of stuff going around the pines you can't see into the trees at all. Your vision is blocked and your view is altered dramatically. There were all kinds of plants and grasses and weeds growing nearly as high as the trees themselves, who were still in their infancy. 

Trees always soothe me - they comfort me. Call me crazy, but it's true. But looking that field, I didn't feel calm. I didn't feel a sense of peace. I literally thought, "What chaos." If you'd never been to eastern Carolina before and didn't know this same two-lane highway like I do - after nine years of driving it you'd think that it always looks just that way.

But sometime in the next year or so, as the loblollies stretch out and grow towards the sun, a different picture will form. What will be left are these lovely, perfect rows of the skinny pine. What once looked like the mess and jumble will be orderly. You will be able to see down the long rows, deep into the woods. Though other tress may grow in and among the pines, the other stuff will be weeded out.

Painful circumstances remind me of this cycle of growth and replanting. In the midst of them - the painful circumstances, all you can see is the mess. Your vision in blocked and your view limited. In that pain and in the challenging moments, you may feel as I have felt recently - that it would be easier to quit, walk away - give up. And certainly, that would be easier.

But there's a process at work, whether we can see it or not. That process, like the growth of the trees takes time. What's ugly and messy now becomes order and beauty later. Hang on if you're in the chaos and mess. Hang on. Eventually, you will see through the trees and order will find its way back into your world. The chaos will be replaced with order and beauty.

What I Want

{What I want . . . but don't have}

Just a few minutes ago, I took the dog out for a walk. It has rained all day and the drizzle this evening has made it ugly and grey and cold. I couldn’t find any shoes nearby that were appropriate for the weather. And frankly, I was too lazy to go to my room and put on socks and tennis shoes.

I slipped into my flip flops and a wind breaker. Cropped sweat pants, flip flops, a wind breaker and my crazy humidity-touched Medusa hair. I was a sight. And not a pretty one. I was a hot mess. As I was walking the dog, I was thinking about you and what we’d be talking about if you were beside me, sloshing through the dog’s evening walk. I’m sure whatever it is, it would be either soulful or ridiculous. You are both. As am I.

I write love stories. Lots of them. There are always some elements in them that go beyond the typical boy meet girl story but they’re always about love. Finding it. Growing it. Losing it. Every once in a great while I’m fairly certain people think my writing and romantical {I know it’s not a word, keep your shirt on}, sentimental, fanciful ways disqualify me from thinking about falling and being in love as it is – that somehow I only see it as what I imagine it to be.

But here’s where they’re wrong . . . I’m not looking for “sunbursts and marble halls” as one of my all-time favorite heroines said. I want to walk the dog with you. I need to argue with you. Like right this second, now. We need to have a really stern conversation. I mean it. I want to pretend I’m mad when you make fun of the way I jumble my words. Or when I’m too serious. You’ve certainly seen me there. As I have seen you there too.

You know what I need? I need to see you when you’re sweaty and smelly and in a bad mood. You know what else I need? I need you to be as loyal to me as I am to you. I need you to defend me because I will be your biggest fan, cheerleader and not a single person on earth will ever wonder what I think of my man. I would really love it if I wake up one morning, out of nowhere, when nothing great is happening and life is just ho-hum, if I find a note – left just for me, in a secret place, and all you say is something along the lines of, “If I didn't have puke breath, I'd kiss you.” Or maybe even, “"Hey, you guys ready to let the dogs out?" I know. It doesn’t make sense. But neither do we. I want to not make sense with you for the rest of my life.

As I was nearing home tonight  I was lost in thought about this dream – this hope, this thing that makes sense though it doesn’t make sense. I crossed the street with the dog, focused on the house lit from the inside, looking warm and dry and comfy. I wasn’t watching where I walked and found myself almost ankle deep in water. Standing there in the middle of the street, I laughed at myself – at my ridiculousness. The dog stared at me, like . . . “Uh, seriously? Can we go inside now?” I was certain that if you were here, there are three possible ways that this walk would have ended . . .

You would have steered me around it – so lost in babbling I would have been. I would have steered you around it – so lost in a story you would have been. Or . . . we would have trudged through it together soggy and focused on making our way to our brightly lit home where a bottle of wine awaits, along with the rest of our simple life.

Photo by: http://www.sxc.hu/profile/cjhallman