Over the weekend, I felt a sudden urge to paint again. I’d shunned my art supplies for two years, collecting dust on a shelf. Art was such a connection to my dad and is family, when that connection became strained my love to create with paper and paint became complex, a time of dark contemplation instead of creative freedom over what was and what could have been. As we drove home on Monday night, passing through a frantic rainstorm to the breath of fresh air that is sunshine, I was struck by how beautiful the summer sky is in the evening. The tall clouds of a thunderhead, whispering clouds on the other side, a pink and orange fantasy against purple and gray misty sky, all grounded by the rolling green hills below. It was a blast to soak in the sights of these big sky moments as we drove north back home on a interstate.
The next morning, in bright sunshine I decided to give it a go and try to capture what I saw that evening – this is what I came up with. It was a joy to create with this medium again after so many years without picking up a brush, but with a clearer head. I guess time really does heal everything. Do you like watercolor painting or sketching? Have you left a hobby for years only to realize it is something you really love?
Have you ever experienced one of those nights when no matter what you do you can’t drift off into the delightful slumber of a good night’s sleep?
I’ll go through bouts of bad sleep in the summer when the humidity sets in and the night is just a bit too stuffy. Those first weeks of summer when the warmth comes to rest overnight, and the fan radiating air from the window can’t seem to beat back the soupy air. Recently though, it was a bigger boss battle. The wandering of my mind to landscapes of worry.
Night Awakens My Creativity
I’ve always been a night owl. In the past, if I’ve been in the middle of a project at a job or heavy weighted exam in school it hovers in my mind when I am trying to sleep. It’s like I can’t allow myself to stop, rest, and recharge. I want to keep going. Keep creating until it’s perfectly done.
Sometimes my best ideas for garment construction or writing a scene in a fiction story come in those wee hours, trying to drift my mind off to sleep. And I’m not abnormal, this is pretty common, even glamorized as the artist’s life.
I don’t love the timing of these creative streaks, but I have over time learned the discipline of telling myself, that’s enough – it’s time to turn my mind off. That’s what it feels like, turning my mind off, like flipping an invisible switch to motivate my inner creative machine to close shop for the night.
But worry. Worrying, fear, anxiety, etc are the emotions I still have yet to best when they interrupt my sleep. With my mom having surgery this week, I’ve been best friends with insomnia. My mind has been restless, even combative towards peace and relaxation. I’ve been a tightened spring coil, resisting the welcoming aura of my bed in a false sense of control that if I worry about her surgery that I can somehow keep bad things from happening. Like I have any control over this thing!
Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.
James 1:2-4 ESV
I remember in therapy for anxiety and panic attacks in college, the thing that was the most helpful but the most painful was my therapist telling me that I was not in control. Ouch. It made me feel so dumb and small, yet the conviction and freedom I felt were like a cool breeze on a hot sunny day. It’s the illusion of control that makes my mind tie up into knots. But the stark reminder, the tough love of being told, you can’t control these things that overwhelm you, well it takes the burden off of my shoulders.
His Way, Not Mine
I’ve been thinking about that a lot on these nights of tossing and turning in what-ifs.
These dominos of confusion that I mentioned in Spiraling in Silence are not there for naught. With the personal maturity and spiritual wisdom I have sought out in 2023, there has been a path of growth and progress. But with growing comes growing pains, and spiritual maturity comes testing. And although these back-to-back weeks have been annoying, they have been a reminder to keep growing.
And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.
Romans 8:28 ESV
With June marking the halfway point of the year, it can feel like a good place to stop, to rest. I mean, especially in the United States the beginning of June is the kickoff of vacation season. You’re supposed to “leave it all behind” and have some big, never-ending pool party/beach vacation/barbeque, that is at least what the commercials are selling. But with my faith, there is no vacation season, no coasting if I am seeking growth. Because God uses all things, the annoying bouts of insomnia or the big things – medical procedures that scare us – for good.
When we are worried or scared, because life is ripe with troubles ready to knock us down, it is encouraging to remember that these are opportunities to rely on God and all that He does for us. It is the time to rest in His plan and provision, for example, the provision to bring people into our lives at the exact moment we need them, that shower us with the love and support we crave when life makes us lonely.
Gratitude and Kit-Kats
One of the best ways I have found to get my head out of worry when I can’t sleep is to distract myself by counting my blessings. Even when life is going bad, I’m amazed at how many good things are going right in my life, that I simply forget about until I stop to think about it. Simply being alive, with a roof over my head and a meal to eat are huge things to not take for granted.
I have yet to beat the boss battle of my worry, and it still bests me most of the time, but I am learning how to change my perspective in those moments, and that sure feels like a step in the right direction. Getting rest and recharging in some way during those bouts of worry and lost sleep is more precious than I realize too. Everything seems 10x more complicated when you are fighting through insomnia
I caught myself last night being an absolute jerk, just because I was tired and cranky, and honestly scared to not be able to sleep again. But you know what helped pull me out – a piece of chocolate. That small little delight of chocolate, and watching something that made me laugh. It’s those little things which bring joy in the midst of meh, that remind me that I have so much to be grateful for and so much more purpose than wallowing in a bad mood of worry and bad sleep.
Thank you, dear reader, for spending time with me. I wish you restful, restorative sleep tonight. I sure hope I can do the same!
I like transparency and honesty, yet I have not been honest with myself this week. I have been a spiritual dark cloud with a disinterested heart towards reading my Bible and spending time each day with God. I have been running from Him, which has set me on a path of unrest and a posture that is lacking in self-care.
Neck Anxiety
Literally, my posture has been one of emotional unrest. My shoulders and neck are making me pay for it as I’ve let them get stuck in knots. Existing in the tension of my mind. The physical toll of anxious, spiraling thoughts is sometimes worse than the emotions. Because after it’s over, and my muscles relax I am left with the haunting sensation of sore, aching muscles that were unable to relax in the midst of my mind’s tumult.
This cloud of spiritual funk has left me in an anxious place worrying about things I’m not even sure I should be worrying about.
One man’s sermon should not be so destructive unless that is exactly what the enemy wants. I think I’ve been under attack for two weeks now, the anxiety I am holding in my neck certainly communicates a war in my mind.
Isn’t strange how we can be on top of the world one day and the next something knocks us down into despair. A melancholy that keeps us stagnant.
It reminds me of Elijah’s depression in 1 Kings 19.
Growth to Crisis
I’ve felt so on fire for God for months now. I’ve been stepping out in faith more, speaking out for the gospel, and ministering to my unbelieving friends with boldness. I have been tithing for the first time with consistency, and yet, even when we are doing all the right things tests come. Spiritual warfare comes. Confusion and chaos shake us like Elijah experienced after God defeated the prophets of Baal.
But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he asked that he might die, saying, “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers.” And he lay down and slept under a broom tree. And behold, an angel touched him and said to him, “Arise and eat.” And he looked, and behold, there was at his head a cake baked on hot stones and a jar of water. And he ate and drank and lay down again. And the angel of the Lord came again a second time and touched him and said, “Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you.” And he arose and ate and drank, and went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb, the mount of God.
1 Kings 19:4-8 ESV
I’ve felt the temptation to be stagnant, or worse to regress back to a place where I am seeking my own will instead of God’s will. I know deep down nothing good would come of that choice. No blessings, no peace, no fruit.
I’ve been silent. Not praying, or looking for any quiet moments with God. I have been shying away from my usual routine of listening to worship music throughout the week, refusing to be fed, like Elijah refused to eat or drink and wished to wither away.
Chaos & Confusion
Sometimes the church has some bad witnesses and presents parts of the Bible in ways that feel more like man’s way than God’s holy way. I’ve decided to abandon the sermon series I’ve been listening to and run from this convoluted presentation of what heaven will be like and the reward system that God has. It has done nothing but cause chaos in my heart, to make me fearful of God’s judgment instead of running to the Heavenly Father with open arms.
My husband has been very patient with me, listening to my worries and my questions. He has been defeating the lies the enemy is trying to trap me in about who God is. He has reminded me that even strong believers go through times of struggle, and these weird time times can produce growth.
It doesn’t mean I am a failure.
As I am writing this I see now that the biggest way this funk has impacted me is the sense of isolation and shame.
I have kept this anxiety from everyone, including my close friends. I have felt ashamed to admit I’m struggling and have put myself in a bubble. As the week progressed I became more and more stuck in my own head. Insomnia and bad dreams have taken residence in my head. I’ve felt run down and not like myself.
Unlikely Gift
I now wonder if the mysterious squirrel or bat that was in our chimney was literally a blessing because it drove me into the welcoming hugs of my friends’ next door. The evening of the mysterious noises should have been terrible, but instead, I think now about how loved I felt. I think God brings those opportunities about to show us how loved and cared for we are, even when we are going through Spiritual growing pains.
God provided for David when David was being chased and brought his complaints to God.
God fed Elijah and cared for him even though Elijah was wishing for death.
God is good. He is bigger than our problems. He can handle our darkness. He wants to be our source of strength and I lost sight of that. I’m thankful God never loses sight of what is important and never gives up.
If you are struggling dear reader, I hope this will encourage you to keep going. You’re not a failure if you are having a bad week or a bad month. Sometimes we go through waves of emotions that are difficult to process and we need to be patient with ourselves. You are not alone.
I’ve found there is something serene about mending your own clothes. I find it almost a joy to launder the items and collect them in a pile for a day of slow, methodical stitches and problem solving. It makes the chaos of holes and rips into the calm of rejoined fabric and orderly hems. There is a satisfaction in fixing an item that was broken, making it as good as new. It reminds me that in life when the problems come, and there will be problems big and small, that it’s not over when trouble comes.
Like last night, when a scratching and rustling sound echoed from our chimney to the fireplace below. All I could picture was that scene in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation when the squirrel terrorizes the living room, scurrying from table to chair, knocking things over and crawling on Clark.
Of course this happened after dark, naturally as it does, when the stores are closed and the exterminator or animal control would be closed. In a frenzy we grabbed a sheet of plywood from the wood shop and covered the hearth opening. I called my neighbor, who has become like framily (friend-family) to me. They shared advice from their own experience with critters in their house, wrapped me in a hug and calmed me down with some good laughs. When I came back home, although the bat or squirrel or whatever it is, may still be on the other side that plywood I felt okay.
Having caring and friends who love and support you is the mending thread of our lives when things get weird.
Seams and a New Gadget
Today’s mending agenda consisted of re-attaching a missed seam on a pair of underwear I bought from a big brand, the pieces of fabric were connected across the seat seam with a serger aka overlocking machine and it either ripped the fabric which dislodged it from the seam or the pieces did not get sewn together in the first place. I have a love-hate relationship with the practice of serging ends and seams. I know it saves time and uses less fabric to finish seams but dang, they tend to unravel like nothing else. So, is it really better? I’m not sure. But that’s my opinion.
I’m doing a repair on a tank that I made from a burnt orange knit fabric. I made an unwise decision to take it in at the armhole which made the fit around the bust odd. It’s pulling and the stitches are placing too much stress on the knit fabric, which I saw the aftermath of while unpicking the stitches that made the armhole smaller. There were some big rips! Now the underside of each armhole looks like it was chewed up. Which to honest made me feel a bit stressed out because I enjoy wearing this piece and I don’t have any more fabric to patch the whole with. Thankfully my new gadget made this process of closing each rip easier – the palm thimble!
As I mentioned before in #21 – Sewing When I Lost the Love For It I have developed tendinitis in the knuckle of my middle finger of my sewing hand. This is what drove me to stop hand sewing in general and get used to using my Heavy Duty Singer machine. But alas, there are still times when you need to sew by hand like when inserting a zipper, mending rips and holes in fabric, and button and buttonhole insertion. I ran into this problem whilst completing this vest for my father-in-law. Just a few hours of hand sewing these buttons and button holes, awaken my injury and my knuckle was not happy. It’s made hand sewing a bit tense for me because what if it keeps getting worse? I love doing this, I don’t want to stop making things or knitting.
But, I was browsing my Instagram feed a few days later and behold a creator I follow named Geri In Stitches was sporting an intriguing accessory – the Sashiko thimble by which she pushed the needles through the fabric with her palm instead of putting stress on her finger. I used mine today for mending and it was a completely difference experience! My finger is not in pain, the knuckle is not inflamed or swollen. It worked! I’m over the moon excited about it.
Taking in Garments
Along with mending today, I also took in three pairs of shorts that were just draped to the point of looking silly. It’s an interesting feeling when I have to take items in because there is that feeling of, dang, now I have to fix something that wasn’t even broken just for the right fit. And there is also a feeling of accomplishment because I have been getting healthier.
I’m tackling my inflammation from food allergy and stress, toning up through interval training sessions, and making healthier choices that is helping me slim down a bit. I went through a decade of gaining weight and not understanding why I couldn’t lose it. It was frustrating and discouraging to feel so out of control. If only I had the wisdom to see how much the mind and the body are connected. The food allergy was giving my body anxiety and inflammation, making it difficult to maintain let alone get in better shape. Mind was so foggy from the stress and emotions of that time period that I didn’t want to take care of myself because I thought – what is the point?
When I have the opportunity to do these alterations, it’s this little moment of progress without having to weigh myself on a scale which is my ultimate trigger into a unhealthy spiral, but also to feel this moment of this will be an easy sewing project today. The item is already completed, and well loved. It’s relaxing compared to garment construction when I can still screw things up.
Later on today, I have another round of alterations, replacing a waistband tie on a pair of shorts and adjusting the fit on another pair of shorts. And then it will be time to put my thimble away and leave process for the next time. But with each wear I will remember the time and love put into these clothes to keep them in good order. A well loved closet.
Do you mend your own clothes? Have you ever taken a garment to be altered or do you just make it work? Before learning to sew, I would just accept my fate if items broke or stopped fitting. It’s a freeing feeling to not be stuck in letting the clothes decide for you. I’d recommend giving it a try or finding someone who can help you with their own sewing skills. It truly makes a difference.
This has been a slow burn since getting into Japanese fashion aesthetics, which ignited my fascination with styling and fashion design. Fruits magazine was the gateway to an intensifying desire to learn, experience, and appreciate Japan and its culture. From Japanese Ninja Warrior to Studio Ghibli to Akira Kurosawa, each has been a step deeper into an affection for a country I’ve never been to but feels so much like a place I could feel at home.
Since watching James May: Our Man in Japan and Ivan Orkin’s episode of Chef’s Table, I’m certain that I will go there someday, or else I will feel deep regret. The beauty of the land and the rich culture calls to me. My goal is to be fluent enough in Japanese by that point that I will be able to communicate in Japanese more than in English. I know it’s a lofty goal, but it would mean so much to me. After traveling to Rome and Paris, I realized how much I wish I studied Italian and French before arriving.
Specific places I would like to see would be each of the islands, Kyushu and Shikoku for sure, and spend time outside the big cities. I’d like to see Hokkaido blanketed in snow. Preferably this trip would be a slower one to explore without rushing through the islands, with time to experience an onsen, a ryokan stay, and a traditional kaiseki meal. Attending a Japanese baseball game would be high on my list too as well as staying in a rural village.
Argentina
This is a new addition to my travel list, thanks to the wonderful travel content of Samuel and Audrey, who have showcased Argentina’s beauty and food with such authenticity. Before finding their travel videos I knew little to nothing about Argentina, but the experience Audrey and her dad share through the vlogs and memories of living in the Cordoba region have piqued my interest! Lately, they’ve been sharing their experiences of visiting Estancias in rural Argentina near the Patagonia region. The scenery is breathtaking.
Australia
To be honest, I’ve wanted to visit Australia probably since I was a child. I grew up at the height of Steve Irwin’s Crocodile Hunter show. Steve and Terri Irwin’s work beyond crocodiles, educated me on the incredibly unique animals of Australia which in turn made me want to go to this one-of-a-kind place. As an adult, Melbourne’s unique food culture is a driving force behind a visit, as well as the Australia travel van life videos of Flying the Nest have expanded my interest in seeing all of Australia.
Kenya
This is a special one. Through Compassion International, I currently sponsor a child who lives in Kenya. Sponsorship means that I help his family with schooling costs and health insurance basically. It takes the financial pressure off of his family. With that being said, I would love to see his home country and experience his culture. He and his family are so dear to us and it would mean a lot to visit Kenya. I’d also love to explore Africa beyond just seeing Kenya. Top Gear UK has done two Africa specials, one in Botswana, and another one that explored Central Africa (Tanzania, Uganda, and Rwanda) which looked like an amazing trip.
Poland
Karolina Zebrowska put Poland on my radar and her love for Poland has been contagious. Poland itself is beautiful. The pictures and videos I have seen of Krakow look stunning. Growing up in Western Pennsylvania, the pierogi is a staple that I adore. The Polish delis around Pittsburgh are fantastic and I’d love to experience the authentic food of Poland. Another reason Poland is on this list is because of the people and their empathy, compassion, and generosity. The way in which they welcomed Ukrainian refugees into the country with love and open arms, taught me and challenged me to emulate this instead of being a complacent American. It’s about people, not politics.
Korea
K-Pop. That’s really the basis for my deep desire to visit Korea. Before K-pop entered my life, I knew very little about Korea except the cuisine was delicious. After being a K-Pop fan for 1.5 years, I’ve dived into other areas of Korean culture and I’m a fan. It looks like a stunning country with incredible food, people, hiking, and baseball. I’d like to see Seoul and browse the K-fashion boutiques and street food while exploring the city on foot like Seoul Walker. Busan and Jeju are on my list too, as well as attending a KBO game.
China
China might be the most fascinating country of them all. The vast amount of diversity in culture, geography, and cuisine, is overwhelmingly awesome. Xiran Jay Zhou and Mike Chen have educated me, as well as the many Anthony Bourdain episodes in China, that China would be a never-ending story to explore and that excites me. Now this is the one country on my list that I don’t think I’ll actually make it to. The China I want to experience and the China that currently exists are in conflict.
The government’s despicable actions towards Falun Gong, Christians, Hong Kong, Tibet, and the Uyghr genocide, to name a few. Not to mention their general lack of regard for their own people’s human rights and free speech is in tatters. So this will probably remain only a trip in my imagination. But, a girl can dream.
In my dream scenario, I’d like to soak up the architecture of both ancient and modern. The mountains of Zhangjiajie National Forest Park are breathtaking. The rainbow mountains of Zhangye and the Fujian Tulou circular homes look fascinating to explore, as well as the Terracotta Warriors in Xian. Pagodas, tea, noodles, bao, art, moon gates, etc. I’d like to see as many provinces as possible and go east and west, north and south to try to scratch the surface.
Have you ever tasted picked daikon? It’s a delightfully vinegary and crunchy root vegetable surprise from a vegetable I’m not sure I would have tried without the pickling. Popular for both Korean banchan and Japanese cuisine – takuan. As my first canning “solo” project, I decided yes this would be a fun place to start. I thought of the stir fry, noodle, and snack opportunities!
I’m so glad Kyle bailed me out because oh my, it was a lot more work than I expected. I was fine with the mise en place. Peeling, chopping, and soaking the radish in salt to extract liquid was no big deal. I find this part of canning relaxing. Where I got in the weeds was the part that involves boiling water.
Making Pickled Daikon Radish
As a clumsy person, placing glass jars into boiling water to sanitize was daunting. The hissing cauldron of steam and water showed me its fury a few times. Once I got passed getting burned, there was the tiny detail of not breaking the jars when placed into the boiling water. Boiling lids to boot.
Now to the second part of canning, I take for granted when working with Kyle – his ability to understand pickle brines. He can find peace in the process where my head is still computing how this all works. Needless to say, I got nervous and asked him to help me with making a safe and accurate pickle brine for these picked radishes (takuan). 🌞
As I mentioned briefly in #1 – Welcome I am studying Japanese, something I plan to share more of at a later point, but with studying Japanese, canning this Japanese dish gave me the opportunity to practice writing hiragana. I chose to label the jars in Japanese to give myself the opportunity to practice not only writing the syllables of the hiragana writing system but to hopefully retain these syllables in my brain by having to read the word in Japanese. It’s a small detail, but I hope to do more in order to commit the language systems and words to heart.
Crosley: A Fine Car
We had a rather big delight dazzle our television on Thursday night – the premiere of The Grand Tour’s Eurocrash special which may be the best one they’ve made on The Grand Tour. I say that every time a new one premieres, but I don’t know, this one just hit a new stride and then topped all my expectations. It’s like the new Ateez album that was released on June 16, I was a fan and then they made the Bouncy (KHot Chilli Peppers) Music Video and I’m fangirling even harder.
I’ve watched Eurocrash twice since Thursday and I’ve laughed as much as I do when I watch Top Gear UK with Clarkson, Hammond, and May. Their creativity continues to surprise me.
I particularly enjoyed the three cars selected for this road trip through Poland, Slovakia, Hungary, and Slovenia. Richard chose the toon-town convertible truck, the Chevy SSR. It looks like something Goofy would drive around Disney World in the 1990s.
Jeremy’s Cruella De Ville car I absolutely loved because I have an affection for cars aesthetics between the 1920s-1940s cars. I love design from that time period and sometimes I wish the shift in car design into the 1950s had been pushed back for a few decades. The Mitsuoka Le Seyde reminded me of the cars in The Legend of Korra actually.
Now James’ car was a whole other ball game, it was an actual 1940s car that aside from the terrible engine seemed almost futuristic to me in that wonderfully nostalgic way of the Jetsons. I think Crosley had some good ideas with it if only the motor was made for an actual car. The hot rod with a specific slogan was their best comedy backup car to date!
I left that special feeling properly chuffed and dreaming of visiting the beautiful countries of Eastern Europe.
Each week I find myself, hands covered in dough. The way I used to be as a kid, except instead of baking bread or sweet roll dough, I make a little thing called a scone. Or “scon” depending on whether you hail from Northern Ireland. It’s a simple thing. A new part of my routine. That little moment of quiet time, as I cube the cold butter and measure the dry ingredients. It’s a ritual. Between my fingers, I delve deep into the bowl molding vegan butter, sugar, flour, and baking powder into a sandy mixture. A sandy mixture that feels like the sand on the beach, a little wet, pliable. The sand I still love to squish in my hands, in a drifting mindless void of experiencing the texture. A sensory delight.
In the rhythm, I cube the butter. Careful, long cuts with a sharp knife divide, and divide again until with swift chops little butter cubes line up on the counter. Flour cup after flour cup, building a powdery mountain in the bowl. A sprinkle of sugar, leavening, and salt. Blend, blend, blend, and watch Youtube. Let your mind drift away to far places. Watch the squirrels hop around the yard. Add water and raisins, and make a wet, sticky dough. With a spoon drop the scones one by one on the parchment. A warm oven, here they go.
My scones are a bit like biscuits, a little like shortcakes. A dash of raisins, the quick lift of soda bread. They are an amalgamation of what I remember relatives baking for me as a kid, and a new thing influenced by new boundaries. New limitations by a dairy-free restriction put into the practice of a nostalgic moment. I cannot bake the way I used to, but I can still make things with new ingredients. I can carry on the old ways of the past but in a way that makes sense to me.
Coming from a Northern Irish background, my grandma’s side called them “scon” and she made them with raisins. She drank tea and ate them with a little butter. Traveling south, I had biscuits – buttery and lightly sweet biscuits which felt like these scones of my memory. Strawberries and shortcakes, with a dash of whipped cream, a dish reminiscent of evenings at my mother-in-law’s house. A quick baked treat after a long day of hard work, that we would eat while my father-in-law showed us old episodes of Star Trek. Irish Soda Bread is an item I discovered later on in life to celebrate my heritage. A treat my mom would make on St. Patrick’s Day. Its dense yet fluffy texture creeps its way into my scones. These are a bundle of memories in one bite.
A bite I have quite often now. A bite that is my current breakfast staple with a handful of berries and almond milk whipped cream. I eat this with a cup of Yerba Mate.
I used to avoid breakfast, I simply wasn’t hungry. Then I picked up some bad habits like granola bars, pop tarts, or sugary cereals to start my day. This is the first breakfast routine, I appreciate. Maybe it’s the responsibility of making those scones by hand and keeping the freezer stocked for the week that has given me agency. Or an open eye to how food is nourishment, not fuel, not the enemy, nor is it a coping mechanism that reminded me to enjoy this simple thing.
It’s Monday, and I only have one scone left. I’m honestly looking forward to getting my hands covered in dough, in my little weekly routine. To create that taste of home in one bite. For the love of baking. The joy of homemade, handmade things that are a privilege to make.
Some say she doesn’t use patterns. And that she’s never heard of a measuring spoon. But we all know is she’s called a maniac.
I’ve always aspired to the words of Miss Frizzle, that in life it’s time to take chances, make mistakes, and get messy. That is my creative approach whether with thread, paint, or in the kitchen. It is my ethos. I am not organized, but I have flair! I enjoy a good adventure in learning, even if that takes me to a destination unexpected. It was the journey that mattered most. That is why my creative personality has gravitated toward hands-on jobs – campus mail carrier, paint crew, library assistant, switchboard operator, or Appalachian culture site manager. The list goes on and on. There was more freedom to be me, and less pressure to conform.
I do not translate to an office job. Although I tried my hardest to be what they wanted me to be. I stuck it out for 3.5 years in a corporate marketing department, my creative style was highly reigned in. I made my deadlines and was as focused as possible, but it just wasn’t a good fit. Not like cooking, baking, sewing, knitting, writing, painting – making things is such a joy. I think because the process is messy. It is a flurry of creation. And that suites me.
I’ve learned that choosing not to follow the exact directions and recipes for creativity’s sake, can seem odd to a type-A, organized person. This has been particularly evident in marriage as Kyle and I can be complete opposites sometimes. But it works because teamwork has ebbs and flows. In time, our differences have become endearing to one another. I think that one of the coolest think the most extraordinary thing about relationships is that you grow to appreciate each other, including your differences.
In my maniac fashion, I’ve discovered new recipes I’d not tried without experimenting. I’ve also learned how march to the beat of my own drum, even if that is weird for people. I’ve also accepted the fact, that even when I am trying so hard to be precise, my creative nature and clumsiness will inevitably take over and that’s okay. I can make messes without feeling like a failure. I don’t have to compare myself to the Pinterest-worthy images that wallpapers the internet into an aesthetic monotony. Sometimes a little spice of imperfection is good for the creative soul. And thanks to Stray Kids’ Oddinary comeback, I have an anthem!
A little disclaimer: this post is written in good fun. As an Top Gear fan, the word maniac is beloved (and a term of endearment between Kyle and me). It’s not being used offensively. Please don’t take this out of context. Thanks ♥️
For a week, I decided to do something a little different with my Bible reading. Instead of reading a chapter or two, from whatever book I happened to be studying at the time, I’ve been reading, slowly, methodically over the first 40 verses of Psalm 119. If you’re not familiar with this passage, Psalm 119 has a unique structure. It is 176 verses in length that are divided into 16 sections, each section is named for a letter in the Hebrew alphabet. It’s not a quick read! And usually, I don’t approach this reading with enough attention. My usual posture is to power through its length, but this time I wanted to get a bit more knowledge out of it. The idea was to push my mind to get acquainted with the text and the wisdom of the lines of the page.
Because to be honest, this chapter is dense with words, imagery, and lessons. The sentence structure of the ancient Hebrews is tricky, I read the words in the wrong order and sometimes miss the point of what I am reading. So either I can get discouraged by the intricacy of studying this section of the Bible or I change my approach. I chose to expand my idea of what my time studying the Bible looks like, as an experiment to see if meditating on the words, is as important as they say.
Restful Reading
After my interval training workouts, I like to cool down by laying on my yoga mat with my legs and feet up against a wall. The feeling of my back realigning while the lymphatic draining, makes me feel leaner, and the posture of lying on my back staring at the ceiling provides a moment of total relaxation after pushing my muscles. It is something I look forward to. Sometimes I push myself to workout, just to do this part. Usually during my legs against the wall session, I’ll watch a Youtube video or possibly a music video, something that will excite my mind with stunning visuals or thought-provoking content, usually about fashion history.
But what about those seasons of dryness? I’ve been in a three-week slump of a spiritual desert. I want to dig into the Word, stay focused on the Lord, and be prayerful throughout my day. I have not been. I’ve been leaning into distractions, into music, video games, etc. So I decided to challenge myself during a rest on my yoga mat, to leave my phone on my dresser, and pray. To be completely alone with God, and dwell in His presence instead of distractions. With a rapid-fire list of K-Pop songs swirling in my head, I asked God to help me focus on Him and Him alone. I wanted the ability to shut out all distractions.
My internal playlist went from 11 into a whisper, then silence. Like a volume dial turned by His hand.
The next day, I missed my workout but I was craving some downtime. After my shower, in the quiet of the evening light, I spread out my yoga mat on the wood floor and extended my hand out towards my bed, to my Bible. I asked the Lord to guide me, what should I be focusing on tonight? What would you like me to learn about you? I felt a pull towards the Psalms, instead of my current place in Isaiah. To Psalm 119. Not a psalm I gravitate towards, a marathon more than a read to me.
I was thinking about the way in which Biblical scholars read the Bible, and how the Israelite men used to study the scriptures in the temple schools. The slow recitation of the scriptures, a wandering path through the wisdom instead of a sprint, in order to store the word of God in their hearts and minds.
Scripture Stored in My Heart
Although I’ve been reading the Bible a lot more since 2020, I do not have the scriptures memorized. A few verses here and there from Sunday School and Christian education, but not a backlog of wisdom to pull from in moments when encouragement is needed. I’m disappointed in myself for how little attention I’ve had to studying and memorizing so that it is in my heart. So many other useless things I carry around in my mind like quotes that make me laugh or lyrics to entertain me but, none of these sustain me.
I felt quite convicted by this. I like to put 100% into what I do, for the glory of God. I’m a passionate person. Understanding that in reality, I am not as passionate about learning scripture as I would profess. Because if I was, I would be doing it. Seeing the reflection of who I really am and what my priorities look like, can only be from God, but also was a harsh reality of how much spiritual maturity is still out there waiting to be acquired. If I only give it my full attention. That’s the tough part. It requires discipline, focus, and drive. This world is waiting with bated breath to keep us as distracted and far from God as possible. We have to push back the distractions with our own free will to seek God and seek His will in our lives.
The Start of Something New
Fully convicted and invigorated for change, I opened my Bible to Psalm 119. I asked the Lord to help me only focus on Him and to learn what He would like to teach me through this time with Him. I began to read slowly, line by line. Slowly, line by line, reading, considering, pondering the meaning and significance of each line.
א Aleph Blessed are those whose ways are blameless, who walk according to the law of the Lord. Blessed are those who keep his statutes and seek him with all their heart— they do no wrong but follow his ways. You have laid down precepts that are to be fully obeyed. Oh, that my ways were steadfast in obeying your decrees! Then I would not be put to shame when I consider all your commands. I will praise you with an upright heart as I learn your righteous laws. I will obey your decrees; do not utterly forsake me.
Psalm 119:1-8 NIV
The lines hit me differently. In a fashion, I can only describe as meditating on the word with the Lord. Some words jumped off the page, and others carried more weight than they had before. It was a remarkable time of fellowship with God. I’ve now read this first section, at least six times over the course of a week. Each time slowly, with time to ponder how this wisdom applies to my life and the world I exist in. I plan to discuss more of what God has been teaching me as I read through Psalm 119. Thank you, dear reader, for spending time with me today. ❤
One of my biggest fears was realized when death came knocking and was forced to live apart from my grandpa. He was such a big part of my life growing up, filling both the role of grandfather and dad when I was young.
In 1st grade, fresh from retirement from his role as an athletic director, he suited up he said for his most important job yet – picking me up from school. Every day he lined up his truck in the parking lot with coffee and newspaper in hand, chuckling to himself that he was the only “old guy” there in a sea of minivans and stay-at-home moms.
I got used to his presence, whether it was the car rides home from school with a serenade of his music, usually The Brothers Four, or another singing group he liked in college. Sometimes it was Willie Nelson, Vince Gill, could be Alabama. If there was a quartet performance coming up, he would practice his part as the high tenor of The King’s Men gospel quartet. After school, he might teach me how to hit a baseball properly or we would wash the car. When I got a pet rabbit in 3rd grade, Papa was by my side caring for the rabbit like it was his own. He built me a swingset and went to every chorus content, home volleyball game, art show, open house, jog-a-thon, etc.
As I grew older, and my mom bought her own house, our relationship had to change because instead of seeing him at the breakfast table and after school, I had to be intentional. I talked to him and Grandma after school on the phone. I’d visit them on the weekends and on breaks from school, I always knew I was welcome to be there. On Saturday mornings, we made a standing date to get breakfast at a local diner. We had a special order, he would order eggs, bacon, and toast with an extra plate. I ordered the pancakes and we’d split the lot. He taught me how to ride a bike, so why wouldn’t I look to him to teach me how to drive? It just made sense. Moving into college we had pizza lunch dates, where we’d discuss my classes and his current readings. In the fall, he was my football game buddy.
It was his opinion I cared the most about, from what career choice I made to the boy I started dating, and was getting pretty fond of junior year. When that boy asked me to marry him, Kyle became part of our little circle. I knew time existed, and the limitations of age and health would get us eventually, but when death came to take Papa away, I realized how scary it was to think of carrying on without him. It felt impossible. Unnatural.
Today is the third anniversary and I’m relieved that I feel okay, as weird as it is to be okay. I didn’t think I could find this place of being okay. Overcoming my fear took practice. When death happens you don’t really get a chance to prepare. The moment it happens there is no going back and it’s weird.
Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer’s; he makes me tread on my high places.
Habakkuk 3:17-19 ESV
What helped me get through this fear the most was the support to keep walking forward, my support came from the Lord and my wonderful friends (and best friend, Kyle). I had to believe that God’s promises were good. Like the words of Tauren Wells’ song “God’s Not Done” I had to trust that there was more for me coming than the dead end, I felt stuck in. Fear is a liar, as Zach Williams writes, and pushing the fear back into its place was what ultimately helped me. But this journey has been three years of hard work and there are still moments where I feel like I’ve made zero progress. That’s when I remember Habakkuk 3:17-19 and Lamentations 3:22-24. It’s a tough road, but I am learning to feel the emotions instead of being afraid of them.
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”
One Rabbit Riot 