Being built

I finished the old Testament this morning. Literally, really, truly. I sat with my small white porcelain cup full of milky coffee, and I read the last word in the last prophecy in the last book in my Bible. I wish I could tell you I had a "wow" moment then, after it was all over and done with. Or that I did something dramatic, like burst into tears + sobs. Or even that I celebrated. But I won't lie to you.

I just sat there.

My hand pressed on top of the small leather book that I had been reading out of. Still + silent. I breathed. I thanked God for giving me the grace to travel this far. The sun crept up behind the foggy hills. And I just sat there.

When I finished this morning + I turned the page to the book of Matthew and I looked around me. I was humbled. I could have never imagined that I would be here + now when I finished this half of what I had started so many years ago. Never in my wildest dreams. If at fourteen you had sat me down and pressed a hand against my arm and said, you'll be away from home at twenty-two when you finish Malachi. You'll be different, I would not have believed you. Never. Not for the big white bowl on the beautifully stained shelf that my daddy made. Not for the matching jars or the tins full of tea lining the walls of my kitchen. Not for the daisies on my table. Not for the French I know now. Not for the old books stacked on my pine dresser in my very own bedroom.
Not for anything in the world could you have convinced me back then.

I am so grateful for how far the carpenter has brought me.
How much more He has built me.

So I just sat there, and I thanked Him this morning.
Because I knew then that in however many more years when I actually do finish + read the final word in Revelation + close the little leather book, I have no idea where I'll be. Who I'll be. What I'll be doing. And I become slightly choked + knotted up right now just thinking about that.
God has made me new + more beautiful, and better yet, He can do it again.
And again.
And again.
And again.

I am breathless in anticipation for Revelation.
Because I am expecting even more wondrous things to have happened by then. Unimaginable things.

I can't wait for things to be even better than now.

Home

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.

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.