This is the time of evening I find this extreme satisfaction
come over me. Sitting on my “vintage” couch in my tiny little apartment, in my
own little piece of the world… Listening to Mary J. Blige radio on Pandora…
dishes washed… the smell of dinner still in the air… I’m noticing that my
entire house is my closet and laundry basket all in one… how does a bra end up
on the kitchen table?! Random lists scattered with mail all over my rug, books
under my couch cushions… I read a quote recently that said:
“Creative minds are rarely tidy”
and I just accepted it as truth and stopped freaking out as
much about my inability to keep up with myself…
I have been lost in memories lately.
But not the ones filled with regret. Not the heavy ones that
I’ve laid to rest.
Just the beautiful ones…
Memories of …
Rollerblading hockey games in the neighborhood
Of football in bicycle helmets
Of chapter books read by flashlight in the middle of the
night
Uncoordinated plays and lost basketball games, all for my
Dad
Reading Southern Living and the Journal obituaries out loud
for Nana
Of family produced Christmas plays, I stared as sheep,
innkeeper, wise man shepherd
Hours spent with my composition notebooks and my Bible
Missionary biographies, the heroes of my Childhood: Amy
Carmichael, Hudson Taylor and Gladys Aylward
Long piano lessons, metronome days and my own worship time…
me and the keys…
Unbraiding hair for hours, tucked into the clouds of the
Blue Mountains of Jamaica
Feeling the presence of a Living God at the Garden Tomb in
Jerusalem
Opening my soul’s secrets that night in Budapest, Hungary to
a room full of compassionate women
Hours of walking and talking with my sister in the Yuma heat,
finally feeling understood
Waiting and waiting in a hotel in D.C. for my brother to
compete in Nashville Star
That shocking moment in Art class to hear my brother’s name
called immediately after mine on the roll
Walking out of work to see my little brother’s truck waiting
to take me to my dorm
Following my Dad around Glasgow, WV listening to the
narrated tour of his childhood
Being held on midnight having Happy Birthday sang into my
ear as we danced around your kitchen
Pie baking lessons with my Mother
Measurements and sewing with my grandma, most original (and
conservative) prom dress
Hours of walking in the hot sun, carrying gospel tracts,
encountering complete strangers
Elation as I was crowned homecoming queen
Hot bran muffins and cream of wheat with brown sugar before
school
Museum visits rather than vacations… Coal mine tour,
Blennerhasset Island, Monticello, Mt. Vernon, Smithsonian, Liberty Bell, Betsy
Ross, Gettysburg. . .
Countless hours in the Library, book charts and “book-it”
pizzas
Waking to see you fell asleep with ESPN on, again
Being careful not to scrape my spoon on my yogurt cup… Oh
Leah, how I love you, my sister and my soul mate
Witnessing the best friend I’ve ever had accept Christ into
her heart
Holding my Nana’s hand that night while my brother sang
Amazing Grace while she slipped into eternity
Tuesday night free dinners cooked by true Saints in God’s
Kingdom
Late night conversations with the residents of Gardiner,
those students changed my life
Coffee dates and dog walks with Annette
Intervention nights with my best girls, so many tears, so
much love
Seeing my sister, brother-in-law and niece waiting to meet
me at the Airport in San Diego
I can’t keep writing. I could but I’m crying more than I’d
like to admit.
I’m so blessed. I have experienced such beauty.
I have lived in a way that would seem like my life has been
filled with pain and I realize that the painful times don’t outweigh the rest…
I’ve wondered for weeks why it is that I’ve been clinging to
the quiet, spending time alone, lost in my thoughts…
But I think this is why – I needed to somehow sort it out,
sift thru the memories, relive the good and the bad and decide that from now on
the history of my life is defined by the high moments, and not the low ones.
The scars that the tragedies have left only add character, and my life is one
of color, not of darkness. The beautiful thing about freewill is that in a way,
we hold the pen to the blank pages of our books, we get to keep writing, even
after we totally ruined the last chapter.
So I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep living. I’ll keep believing
in goodness. I’ll keep believing in justice, in equality, in hope for humanity.
I’ll keep standing for the things I’ve believed since I was young, I’ll keep
dreaming the dreams I once dreamt.
I’ll keep believing in the one who called my heart, yes, Jesus.
His presence comforts me and delivers me, strengthens me and
reminds me that I am Beautiful.
<3 Emma
Hi, Emma. Thanks for commenting on my blog. I am going to come visit you here too. I love your writing style.
ReplyDeleteI was particularly impacted by these words that you wrote:
". . .from now on the history of my life is defined by the high moments, and not the low ones. The scars that the tragedies have left only add character, and my life is one of color, not of darkness. The beautiful thing about freewill is that in a way, we hold the pen to the blank pages of our books, we get to keep writing, even after we totally ruined the last chapter."
That is SO beautifully-written.
So many of these memories I share. It was nice walking down memory lane, some moments forgotten but all still a part of our childhood. Thank you for helping me remember. I love you.
ReplyDelete