My coffee mornings and He dies every day

Today started slowly. I woke up early just to sit at my table and enjoy my coffee and finish Zechariah. I found myself writing small things about "moon-eyed lovers" and a tiny man no bigger than a pinky fingernail after I had mused on my carpenter and His fast approaching presence in my Bible. The New Testament is going to be so good. I can feel it in my bones.

I have become impatient. I swear it's this school year that has driven me to it. Just the idea that I am almost done, that the finish is within my grasp, it makes me squeeze my eyes shut so hard that they wrinkle in a way that might stay there forever. I don't mean to, but I just can't help it.
I apologize to my future self for the crow's feet.

But all that is not what I want to tell you.
What I really want to tell you, is that Jesus died for you. And if you already knew that, I just want to remind you of it.

Jesus died for you.

Is it bad that I feel like that's new to me everyday? I hope not, because it is. I can barely believe it. I have to grab for it every morning when I wake up. I have to let it settle every night. I have to remind myself of it. I cry. Weepy eyes + quiet sobs. Tears on the pages of my Bible. Laments pressed into the quilt my mother made me.
I can barely stand the thought anymore.
And yet,
it's my favorite thought.

It's that warrior part of my soul, the piece of my spirit that just cannot let go of the men of battle.
I promise you that only a fighter will capture my heart.

I think that we have made the cross into something unavailable, something irrelevant. We've made it hard to tell people the honest truth of the matter, and that's inexcusable. That's sad. That is is sad. The cross is undeniably one of the most important parts of the story. Without it, there is no story. Yet. Yet, when we stand there shivering in our own two legs and we try to tell it the way we know it, we can't relate it.
It seems like it doesn't fit anymore.
And God, it shouldn't be like that.

Calvary is relevant. The cross is relatable. And Jesus's death fits.
It just fits.
I need to tell you that. Because I know it seems like it doesn't, but it does. Even when you can't explain how horrible it was, even when you don't even understand the reality of what actually happened, even when you don't have the science to describe His broken heart, know that it fits. Know that your struggle for the right words and adjectives and the biting of your lip in nervousness will not take away from the truth of what happened. Ever or ever or ever.
Jesus died. It matters so much how it happened. Out of all the ways it could have. And it matters that we don't even do it like that anymore. That we don't kill people like that anymore. So keep that in mind.
Jesus died.
And He rose.

And that is enough.

Starting.

The exams are done and the grades are almost in, but I know the result already. All of my undergrad work thus far is stamped with a 4 and a point and a 0. I feel wonderful. There is no other way to explain it.

I laid in my bed this morning, and I was making a mental list of the things I needed to do today, I actually have stuff that I need to do today, but I stopped that about three seconds into the bullet points happening in my head. And instead I made a list of things I want to do today. It involves tea and French books and painting illustration and packing some things and wearing sweatpants. That's it. That's all I want to do.

But first I wait for my little sister to attend graduation practice and I'm going to read "Mary Poppins" and drink coffee.

This is summer.

Two weeks.

 This and last week have been something else. Something out of this world and not all at once. I began on Sunday sure that God would tell me exactly what to do. Maybe late at night He would whisper in my ear with a precision that would cut across my conscientiousness and I would know, I would just simply get it.
But it's Wednesday. And I don't.

I still don't know.

I have left very little room in my life for the possible. I like the potential, but not the possible. There's something not sure enough about the possible things in life. But this morning after I got up early and went to the Bible study and my Pastor was praying for me, my heart shifted. Just a little. Maybe to the left. And there was room, room for the possible.
I cried when I drove home because no one has ever prayed for me the way my Pastor did this morning. Ever. In my entire life.
Blessings. He prayed blessings on me.

And it doesn't matter that I still don't know.

6In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
Proverbs 3

I think one of my favorite parts about that verse is that it says "paths," like we have choices. Like God knows we have choices. But no matter which one I choose, He will direct it.
My life is beautiful these days. In the absence of sureness and in the presence of deliberations, I have been working hard, learning, and making the best coffee. And even though there have been no whispers this week and I still don't know what to do, where to go, or who to be, I do know that I have learned one thing.

The Lord will fight for me.

Numbered for their worth.

Today was my first morning back to school. Spring. Term.
I woke up this morning. It's like dying, I thought. Even the words they use. Term. Terminal. It's like school is a cancer. 
And then I cringed and rubbed the sleep off my five am face and asked myself the question I was not literally dying to ask.
Is this even worth it?
I tried to think back on how many things I have asked that question about before I pursued them. And then I tried to think about if they actually were worth it in the end. 
Most were.
Most are.

So. I am counting the weeks, and I am doing the work. I am pushing myself. I am drinking the coffee. I am waking up early, and I am walking, walking, walking.
I am building the worth.

My days are worthwhile.
I am proving that to myself.

Now, I will go buy 75 cent coffee from the vending machine and head to astronomy class.
I get to learn about the stars.

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.

8 cups of coffee.

Dear Fleur.
It was Valentines Day today.
I got one valentine. From Tazza. It was so sweet.
I made breakfast this morning. Sweet milk pancakes. Coffee. Paris tea. Nutella.
Then Jenn and I went for a run in town. We stopped in a consignment store and she tried on prom dresses. She's going to be in a pageant. I thought she looked gorgeous in a little white one. But it was too little. She fell in love with some yellow heels. I tried not to covet the little black v neck tee shirt. Isn't that crazy? Out of a whole store, I want a black v neck tee shirt?
We went to a Mexican bakery after that and ate sweet bread with tapioca filling.
Then I taught class.
Skyped Kirsten and read her "King Bidgood's In The Bathtub."
And now, homework.

This is my favourite holiday.
Love Bella.

i like this boys sweater actually.'

dear fleur.
i don't really hate sundays. actually i love them. i think it's my favourite day.
i just don't like this sunday.
i forgot to set my clock back last night. so i woke up at 5AM instead of 6AM. and then the phone was ringing and it was my uncle from norway but i missed it and he didn't have a number on caller i.d. and then the fridge leaked all over the floor. again. and then search&rescue called for daddy but he's at the men's retreat. and now i think i really want some black coffee.

my mother is playing country music on the t.v. i hate country music.

i think i probably need to go do something ridiculous. like wear mascara because i usually don't and eat yogurt for breakfast and sit on the table while making coffee.

oh wait, mom already made coffee....but it's raspberry flavoured. i hate raspberries. i only like the idea of raspberries.

i am determined to like this sunday.
i'll go make my own coffee.
love bella.

i'm waaaaaaaaayyyyyyy too old for you.

dear fleur.

(via)

i think today should be a nice day. the skies are not too cloudy. i just got a ton more magazine clippings. a new gluestick. and i had raisin bran for breakfast.

you know what i'm thinking of today?
curtains.
but that is completely beside the point.
today is the middle school track meet.
and i'm thinking of going and standing in a bush at some time in the day.
just for the heck of it.

and i just made myself a hat. with a red beaded heart coaster on the side of it. yes. a coffee cup coaster. pink hat. red heart. coffee.
perfect.
love from, bell.

EDIT: i got hit on today. with tandy. by an 8th grader. yep. he says, "what grade are you in?" i say, "i'm graduated." and he says, "i'm 18. and i'm going to need your number."
hilarious.
i think that boy has guts. and more guys in the word need that.

and no bushes were stood in.