Being nice is not overrated

Some days I see the point of all this. I wake up passionate and ready and brimming, almost spilling over with effort. And it's easy. It's easy to sit through the lectures. It's easy to read the countless articles and pages of pages textbooks. It's easy to watch the documentaries. It's easy to memorize and recite and practice and discover and explore.
And then there are days.
Then there are mornings.

There are mornings when all I want to do is quit.

But I am coming to see that this is only what I make of it, and those mornings, those mornings are my choice. I choose whether or not to fully embrace today or every day. I choose that.
So I am choosing to make this what I want it to be.
I am choosing no bad days.
I am choosing to forgive others + myself.
I am choosing no regrets.
I am choosing to work harder, and then harder.
I am choosing to hide the love letters in the hallways and books and cracks and desks and chairs.

I am choosing to make a difference + an impact in these years.

I am choosing to love.

I am choosing to be salt.

I am choosing to be light.

This morning was one of those mornings. I woke up and poured my tea on my hand not in my mug + I wanted to cry for no reason at all. I had a sad song in the back of my mind, my French homework was hard to understand, and I hadn't gotten enough sleep for precisely those two reasons. I missed people. I wanted to mope. And sob. And give up. And frown. And do everything but exude joy + bursting.
So I wrote a love letter.
I scratched some happy truths out on a small painted card. I sealed a creamy pale yellow envelope. I pressed some bright fall leaves into the back pages of my Bible. I put my headphones in + listened to Josh Garrels while I walked to the bus stop. I pondered grace. I got over myself.
And I made a choice.
I made the most of today.
I know that sometimes it is hard. I'm definitely not preaching happiness constantly and in a never-ending manner, but I am preaching persistence. I think that oftentimes we don't try hard enough. And yes, I have my teary-eyed moments + I sob my tiny heart out in very true form, but many of those times have been more of a lie than a truth. It was just me giving up. It was just me wanting to quit. It was just me, all about me.
A + I are by no means doing everything perfectly over here. We've been down south for almost two months now — longer for me — and we still don't have jobs. I have turned in over twenty applications and resumés. We sometimes lack motivation. We deny ourselves things we want or need because we fear the future. We procrastinate. We don't understand. And we stand for Jesus in a way here that is already beginning to bring condemnation in a fiercer manner than I would have thought.
But all is well.
We choose for all to be well. I choose it, daily + with an anchor of a soul. This will be one of the greatest portions of my life. This will be one of my best mountains I conquer. This will be beautiful. I am determined for it to be so. With small paintings of letters + flowers at our kitchen table and love letters and dedication and a perpetual pressing forward.

I just want you to know, this morning I chose to be nice.
It was one of the best things.
You should try it.

I have some dear, dear things to share with all of you soon, about changing churches + being a single woman + pursuing things. I am learning a lot these days as I am striking out on my own, and I hope to be more of an encouragement as I express the things that God is working in me. He is so constant + good friends, always, always. He is blossoming some new dreams in the pockets of my heart — or — more likely I am only just now uncovering the buds that were already there, but they are wondrous. That you need to know. They are wondrous, and you have some too. I promise, I'll help show you. 
Sometimes all we need is someone to help us out a little bit. Sometimes all we need is a little niceness. 

Africa is big

Sometimes while I'm in class, I feel like all we are doing is creating a stupid world full of hopelessness and not so passionate people and we only talk about problems not fix things let alone build them and we really waste hours days months years calling it learning but in reality all we're really doing is indulging our minds in circles spun from the silk webs of the people who decided long ago that we need to know everything in order to be someone.
And then I think to myself,

These times are hard, but dreamer hold on.

I had a nightmare the other night. There was a little boy in Africa who was still small but I knew that one day he would know and discover the cure to cancer. I couldn't find him though. I spent my entire life walking around Africa with just my backpack in that dream, and my feet were dusty and my clothes were sweaty and I was dirty, and I couldn't find him. I ended up in some rural village sobbing while the people stared at me.
Then I woke up.
I was clutching my throat and real tears were on my face when I sat up in my bed.

My saving grace these days are my morning time in the Word + the love letter campaign I have taken upon myself. Most of them as of late have small envelopes and tiny paintings that say, You can change things or You are wonderful wonderful wondrous.  I am growing tired of the perpetual + incessant message being preached in the classrooms here of we are not capable and it is already too late. It's showing, in the love letters, it's obvious.
But I like that.
There is something so dissatisfied in me at this point in my life, this part of my mountain, that I really can't ignore it anymore. We are beautiful creatures, fearfully + wonderfully made. And too often we belittle ourselves which in turn belittles the Carpenter and His power. I am fed up with that. I mean, I'm nothing incredibly special, but I am not simply just a human being who exists. I have a purpose. I am almost required to be passionate. In fact, it's possible that I am required to be passionate. Passion is necessary. It is holy + beautiful + desirable.
I don't want to just be here anymore.
I need to be more.

I am not preaching selfishness or a me-centered life. I promise. I only want you to recognize that when you have Christ, you have undeniable storehouses of power. I have that power. And what do we do with it?
What do I do with it?
Nothing.
We just keep breathing.

So, here's for a change.

Build. Anything. Everything. Big + small. Build wooden boxes and friendships and relationships and churches and huts in tiny villages. Build bridges and treehouses and castles. Use your hands.
Change. Change yourself first, then change your neighbor, then your community, then the world. Change a town. Change a person. Make change, find things that need changing, be a change.
Pursue. Hot + fast + with a ferocity unmatched. Be determined. Live brighter and saltier. Run after the things you know you should, and even only those you think you should.
Climb, higher + with more determination.
Love harder.
Do better.
Try more.
Fall often.
Get. Back. Up.
Stand firmer.
Hide in the cleft of the rock.
Sing louder.
Worship real-er.
Live by grace.
Believe always.  
Do justly, love mercy, walk humbly.
Live righteously.
And remember,
these times are hard, but dreamer hold on.

As I sit here at a table on campus with barely anyone around me and I write these small notes and letters that are becoming such a big part of my life I can and will only conclude again again again that this is important this is big this is something good because people need these letters and they need to know the simple truth of the matter.
We are all human beings.
We are all very vulnerable.
And things are hard.
But we will never find the boy who is going to find the cure for cancer unless we are all searching + guiding + looking + discovering, because Africa,
Africa is very big.

Mini Van want.

Dear Fleur.
I am thinking of buying a mini van. Yes, I did just say that. No, I am not stupid or getting married.
I just want a good car that is not super expensive. And it just so happens there is a mini van for sale for $600 and it's only 30 minutes away.
I have to call the guy today.

I'm obsessing over Maurice Sendak a little too much lately. Last night I cried and read Where The Wild Things Are. Tell me that's a normal thing to do. Because sometimes I do it a lot. And I would like to be normal.

Eesh. What am I saying? I'll never be normal. I'm a 19 year old girl who cries over children's books about monsters and wants to buy a mini van as her first car. THAT IS NOT NORMAL.

And I think I'm o.k. with that.
Love Bell.

Keep on keepin on (R.I.P. Olivia).

Dear Fleur.
Life has been kind of hard lately. To sum it up for you perfectly:
MY LITTLE SISTER'S HAMSTER DIED YESTERDAY.
&
I have run out of chai tea.

Don't tell me I can't cry at this point.

To make us all happier, Ria made pancakes and coffee in the French Press this morning. De-caf isn't my best friend, but he and I can be good acquaintances today.
I think I'll sit and sew on Flora. She's been lonely the past few mornings.
And I'll probably Skype someone's ear off. Because:

(photo via ican'tremember)

Love from Bella.

Darling.

Dear Fleur.

Yesterday:
Did you know Petra Mathers understands love?
I bought one of her books.
And I read it while sitting on the floor.
Wearing a knitted grey sweater&black tights while listening to Gavin DeGraw.
Then later on I went to the grocery store in my older sister's little blue and white flowered nightie.
With messy hair.
And then we went to REDBOX.
And rented "Bright Star."
Did you know I think John Keats was the most brilliant man?
That movie was darling.
It made me cry in my bed at night.
And from now on,
I will struggle to write poetry,
start a 'butterfly farm' in my bedroom,
love,
kiss all my letters I write,
and sew on my bed.
Because I think Fanny Brawne was the most brilliant woman.
And I secretly want to be like her.
Did you know the stars were really pretty last night?
They were.
I looked up at them.
While standing in the cold.
Barefoot.
Heureux.
It felt good.

Love from Bella.