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Years ago I began to read the Bible. My Bible. And with intention.
I purposed to finish it all, a chapter a day.
There are one thousand one hundred and eighty-one chapters in the Bible.
I confess, some days I forget. Some mornings I don't do it. Sometimes I don't care enough. But this morning I did, and this morning I finished Nahum. Which means that I am five books away from finishing the old testament.
Can I tell you friends, I am changing? I am. It's so clear now, these last few days especially though. I am so different, so much more a woman than I have ever been. I am hidden, hidden in Him, my carpenter.
I am rescued.
And so apparently, so obviously.

I hummed praise songs under my breath as I rode my bicycle home from the grocery store tonight. Oregon chai, peppermint tea, and a package for A underneath my arm. The roads slick with the southern Oregon rain still hanging in the air. The mountains wrapped in thick grey blankets. It was beautiful.
I celebrated.
Being this close to finishing the first part of something I started so long ago reminds me that I have not always been who I am right now. I was kind of a little lost before. But now I am found. Now I have been so gorgeously found. And I am cherished, I am loved, I am adored, I am pursued.
I'm in the cleft of the rock, and if you've never been there, let me tell you, it is a breathtaking place. It is a solace, a have, a safe place, a home.

Loving Jesus is like coming home.

Peace in your now

Above is my niece, Claire the peach, Claire the babe. She can roll over now.
Isn't that fantastic?
I have striped overalls for her. I had to buy them, I couldn't help myself. And I am painting a small picture for her to go with them in the parcel. Something she can stare at on her wall. It's an octopus.

I've been here almost a week, and do you know, the only piece of furniture I have obtained is a mini bar cart that needs to be re-done. It's somewhat sad. I walked seven blocks to the antique store yesterday, sure I wouldn't find anything, but there it was. That blasted cart. I had to carry it all seven blocks back to my house in a dress. I even passed by two Mormon young men going door-to-door. They didn't offer to help, which assures me that I'll never convert to their religion now.
Such trite experiences we have that influence our faith, those are the most important ones.
Like offering to carry a weight that's not your own. That can change a heart.

Not that I'm in any danger of stepping toward Mormonism. I've just been painting too much and reading Doug Bannister's new book, "Seek the Peace." I'm somewhat in knots about his whole premise. I'm such a wanderluster at heart, such a travel-wanter, such a hopeful missionary.
I never actually took time to think about being present where I am now, with who I am now.
I never tried to actually carry someone else's weight, their load.
We're all missionaries where we are.
Just writing that brings me to the same nagging conclusion that has been pounding in my chest this whole week: I am an idiot.
I am so stupid sometimes. It is so easy as a believer in Christ not to actually try to make a difference now. The key word is now. Because whatever state we exist in, whatever place, whatever moment of life, that is our now. And to be obedient to my carpenter, I'm supposed to be fulfilling the great commission now. Daily. Everyday.

I want to go somewhere so bad. Honestly, I do. But I am here, I am in this now. I belong in this now.
And I need to be.

That is not so bad as I thought, admitting that. There are so many beautiful buds and blooms in my life, that I'm okay with this being my now. I'm okay with working with what I have and enjoying what I have. Because what I have is beautiful.
I have a small niece. A plant on a shelf my Father made for me. I have white dishes. I have classes, soon enough. Light that spills onto my wood floors. Stacks of old books. Coffee. Friendships.
And I have two hands. Two very capable hands that carry the loads of mine own, and someone else's too.

Jehovah + me + encouragement

I am about to go brew some tea and sit on the rooftop with my little sister. We are practicing the art of living slowly before we both head off on our adventures by next week. Then living slowly will be somewhat improbable for some time.

I got a package today. It was surprising + sweet + unexpected. Two more lovely books to add to the best ones that must come with me. I probably shouldn't be, but I'm taking most all of my dear novels with me and only leaving three boxes behind for safekeeping. I'm too sentimental to part with them at this point in life. They seem necessary. They are necessary.
I've traveled to hundreds of worlds, lived hundreds of lives, learned thousands of things. How could I leave that all behind? There is no possible way. I tried to talk myself out of a few of them the other morning. You don't really need these, I said to myself, my hands clutching a small red-bound book of poetry till my knuckles turned white. But I knew in my heart that I did. I do, I do need them. All of them.
Books are the ability to time travel. Giving that up would leave me a destitute soul.

These days of late have been full + brimming. We have been busy with loved ones and learning to love others. I took some time today, stole away really, to nap and write out an essay I had been meaning to because I cherish it so. And now, tea will happen.

It was one of the best things I've ever learned, that I can be others by reading. But it was better that I learned I am already beautiful, and I have a good life to live too. It was proven to me today, by a parcel + a small note.
I want to encourage you all my friends, because I was encouraged today. Your life is what you make of it, so make it gorgeous. Take time to read. Wanderlust. Learn. Discover. Do simple, slow things. Things you love.
And God is great. God is glorious. Because He is Jehovah-Jireh, and He is Jehovah-Nissi.

Today it seems that everything is a gift, and everything is wondrous.

That horse skirt and a book fetish

I am in the middle of packing my bedroom up so I can move four hours away at the end of next month.
August. August will be a month of changes.
I have been pulling out my boxes of books and deciding what lovelies are coming, and which are staying. It's heart-wrenching. I mean, I have stacks of regency-era romance novels that should probably stay here. And I can only take so many full copies of Keats' poetry. And I have a lot Spanish children's books that I can't even read. The thing is, I love them. I love them all. But if I attempt to weigh my minivan down with every slim little Shakespeare I own, that four hour drive might turn into eight.
But I did just buy a blue Samsonite that I can probably shove six novels into.

This weekend I am taking off for Shiloh Bible Camp up in Washington. I'm packing my backpack full of Beatrix Potter, Ludwig Bemelmans, and P. L. Travers, and I am going to read them all to my little sister.

Bemelmans.

Today has been good and not.
Swell.
But not like the swell you're thinking. Not like that classy swell of the gangsters in the 40s who wore two guns tight against their chests and ribs and walked arm-in-arm with the women who had the perfect curls and green dresses under black wool coats.
Just, swell.
Swollen. With everything and nothing at all. Because see, I've been staring at Ludwig Bemelman's illustrations for far too long now, studying for an oral presentation on Thursday, and I can't get over it. I just can't.
I want this so bad. And it's swelling. It's swelling up in my chest and pressing on everything and it hurts and I just want to throw my hands up in the air and be done with everything and start everything. It's killing me inside, how badly I want this. Need this. How much it swells.

Let's see what comes of it.

William.

Dear Fleur.
Last night was Biblestudy. Jenn taught. We all drew pictures of what we thought God's will for our lives was.
I drew me.
Carrying a stack of books.
In India.
With a little Indian boy.
Teaching English.
And building a library.
The first thing they asked me was, "Why are your jeans rolled up?"
I had to laugh.

My essay is almost done. I'm still kind of going crazy about it. But it's good. I think. I'm not sure. I always have to wait till my teacher tells me it's good before I actually believe that it's good.

4 more hours in the Lahey bread method.

And today is birthday present cramming day. I think I have 6 birthdays this month. And one is in 4 days. And I have 2 scavenger hunts to do. Just kill me now. I need to have a birthday meeting with Mandy. Spring Break will be our cram week for birthdays.
We're going to need a lot of coffee for this month.

In other news:
Mandy went to Eugene and Lala gave her a sweater to give to me. First piece of clothing I've received since the start of Clothesless, and it's darling. Because I didn't even need it.
We have milk.
I dreamed of a Russian boy last night.
I need fabric.
My hair is straight.
And,
we have a very cold house. I even have knitted socks on and it's still cold.

Now for homework and fabric runs through the house.
Bella.

I think there is an imaginary handprint on the left side of my face. And I think I like it.

We are supposed to go to the Goodwill today. And maybe an antique store. And I think there has been talk of more food. But we are always talking of food.
For breakfast we had leftover donuts(from our party last night) and lattes.
Yes.
We had a donut party last night.
And I am actually kind of going crazy here. I'm reading Kirsten's book, "Just Do Something." It's sort of like someone slapped me on the back of my head and said, make a decision already! So I'm going to. And it's exciting. And scary. And involves my own donut parties and my own closet.

And now she's playing the piano and Stephanie is brushing her teeth in the kitchen.

I like this house.

crazylove[story].

dear fleur.
i should really tell you my crazylovestory.
here it is.

a long time ago(like months and months ago), i decided that i wanted "crazylove" by francis chan. and it was all kirsten bean's fault. she read it first.
but i really did want it. a lot.
so i set out on my way to get it. and i went to the christian bookstore to find it. and i did find it. but it was $14.99. which isn't exactly cheap.
but i started saving. i saved all of my change for 3 months almost. and by the end of 3 months i had $9.00 in change. and i kept saving my change.
then ria decided she wanted it too.
and she wrote this blogpost.
and 5 days later she got a package in the mail with crazylove in it. and then she wrote this blogpost. and i went in the front yard and screamed& cried& freaked out.
and that was the end of my crazylovestory.
till this friday.
jen took me out on a date to starbucks. we had iced coffee and green tea and talked about india and she gave me my un-birthday presents(she does un-birthdays because she is so cool). there was a french valentine and a flower pen and a light up key chain and

"CRAZYLOVE."

i almost cried. i pretty much did. but then i had to pretend i didn't because the swedish exchange student came to talk to us. and it was beautiful.

i love you jennifer.
thank you.

and that was my crazylovestory. now francis chan is my good friend and i am eating 70% dark chocolate that mamie bought me.
love bell.

Flighty girl.

Dear Fleur.
I feel like being a random flighty little girl today. Sounds like a plan.
Here we go.

I curled my hair this morning. And burned my left ear in the process.
I'm almost done reading Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day. And I started it this morning. And I'm already in love with it. AND I WANT TO BE WINIFRED WATSON.
My toenails are plum coloured.
We have mango salsa from Costco&Kettle chips. Yum.
My little brother decided that he's "fat."
I want to sew all day.
New story in my head. Outline: Fat girl. Not-fat boy falls in love with her. Chinese take-out. French cuisine. Chocolate cake. Traditional Italian pizza. In the kitchen. Loving yourself. Jogging. Thin girl with a sweet heart. Jealousy. All ends well over pasta.
Cold fingers.
Wanting a little yellow bird.
Madly in love with the idea of street soccer today. But no such luck.
Gavin DeGraw.
& nice lighting.

Taste of what's in my mouth with those chips and salsa:
"Miss Pettigrew didn't like Michael. She wanted Miss LaFosse to get married. Marriage was her best safeguard. But somehow or other it hadn't to be an ordinary marriage. She didn't want an ordinary marriage for Miss LaFosse. She wanted something happy and romantic and brilliant."
-Miss Pettigrew lives For A Day: by Winifred Watson.

Told you I would be random.
Now I'm off to sit on my kitchen floor and indulge in chocolate muffins and 1% milk.
No, I don't think I'm fat. They were out of 2%.

Love from Bella.

Little French Dream.

Dear Fleur.
So there's, ummm, french toast in the kitchen. Do you know what that means? No, you don't.
IT MEANS THAT TODAY WILL BE RAD.
And I don't even usually use the word "rad."

I'll be cracking out the sewing machine this morning.
My fingers are already covered in ink.
My hair still smells like peppermint.
I heard mention of a French Press&coffee...s'il vous plait Ria?
A girl is sitting on the sofa behind me playing an out-of-tune child's guitar. Darling.
There's one of the sweetest books in the world on my bed.
And there is that little stash of pink paper hearts calling my name.

The one word for this day:
Madeline.
I've kind of been obsessed with her. My life dream is to write something as amazing as Ludwig Bemelmans did. That would be so...rad.

Love from Bella.