Tangled in Flowers

My veins are blue and connected
And every single bone in my brain is electric

                                                              —Jack White

The other night, I awoke brusquely at 2:48 a.m. My eyes literally snapped open. I don't even think I was dreaming, nor was there any specific sound that caused my mind to erupt at that moment. Suddenly, all my senses were itchy and restless. So I got up, looked out my window at the familiar cookie cutter houses, and up towards the sky. It was like Christmas all over again. The moon was staring straight at me, with his shadowy eyes and gaping pores. His beaming light and the window shades painted perpendicular stripes across my wall, and I saw myself climbing them like a latter to my ceiling. The moon was dripping his glowy light all over my room at 2:48. How dare he. Clean it up now. I said. I'm sleepy. But the moon didn't. In fact, he vomited his blueish hue on my face in response to that. So I sat by my window, stared at the moon, wishing I could spew blue light into people's lonely rooms at 2:48 in the morning like he does. But I can't, so I curled up on the floor, let the moon dye my knotted hair, and let my mind drift to its own reality; a bright place in between the dark stripy shadows on my wall.

In this place...

All I see are flowers. I see every color of the rainbow blooming an atrocious masterpiece of velvety petals. Every time I breathe I get sick from the sweet, beautiful bouquets that decorate every possible place I glance. I see the flowers sprouting from the dirty carpet at school. I see them bleeding through my stereo, blossoming in each teeny black hole of the speakers. I see them drooping from the ceiling, manifesting in my dresser and making my pillow a living bush. They creep out of traffic lights and tangle the cars so much they disappear and become moving gardens. They flourish through the letters on my keyboard and tighten around my fingers as I type. But they smell and look so nice, so I let them. My entire world is a garden, and I'm a flea, basking in the swallowing embrace of a single rose. I drown in the color red.

All I hear is buzzing. I hear people talking, worrying, thinking, yelling, smirking, whispering each minute of the day. I absorb the meaningless words like a sponge soaking up sour poison. I'm getting more and more irritated and sick from the ch-ch-chatter all day long. I bloat from the poison as it fills my belly. I want to roar at the sky and say isn't there more than this? I hear cries of stress so painful that I feel like the chalkboard that someone took their fingernails to. Buzz buzz buzz.

All I feel is dry. I'm flaking. I itch at my soul and it sheds layers of past guilt, desperately wanting to be new. But sometimes, I tape that dead skin back on. I can't seem to let go of that part of me. She comes back sometimes when I least expect it and tells me that it was better that way. And so I itch even more. And tape. And peel. I need lotion.

And in the middle of the night, in the dripping shadows of the moon, when my heart is in the most raw form of itself...

All I want is Christ. I yearn, I thirst. Sometimes it aches. When I get so caught up in the world, in other people's opinions and affections, I wander through dark forests and bruise myself, thinking all the while that I'm going the right way. I blind myself to the flowers he sends, the roses in winter that I step right on without acknowledging. He could be dumping stars in a heaping, rhinestone pile right outside my door and I wouldn't know because I'm too busy looking in the mirror or stressing about my future.

I need a renewed sense of truth and what really matters in this life. I'm tangled in the unraveling veins that go from my brain to my heart, and I'm having a hard time distinguishing which one is which. My heart thinks it's my brain half the time. I really should be doing more homework, but what do I do? I write. I really should be calling my friend, but what do I do? I write. This is me right now. I'm a living, breathing poem. I make no sense and have no structure. I say stupid things and don't always look nice. But I hope, and I pray, that these words can make you feel something.

I think sometimes (a lot of times) we feel achingly ordinary. I know I'm ordinary. I wear ordinary clothes, I take the expected classes of an ordinary junior, I act normally (in public, for the most part) and lead an ordinary lifestyle. But to be completely honest, I cringe at the word ordinary. It sounds like order, and I don't like to think of my life as one that follows some blueprint of an order-nary 17-year-old. Unfortunately, at this point, I still need to go to school, wear clothes, and keep somewhat of a good reputation, so going completely berserk and yolo-ing my life to death isn't really the path I have in mind. But I do want to feel like I have a divine purpose again. I want to remind myself that my mind and soul are completely un-ordinary and dance on the fraying edges of insanity at times. I like things that are weird. I like listening to Jack White and reading books of poetry I find at the library. I crave inspiration. Even the simplest and most "ordinary" things, if I let them, can become the wildest and most beautiful pieces of art.

On that ordinary weeknight (or morning?) at 2:48, I found that divine inspiration. Jesus woke me up and showed me the potbelly moon, reminding me that I'm called to walk among the splintery stars. He will answer my wild prayers. I don't know how yet, but he will. My ordinary self will water the parched dirt I walk on each day with the joy that bottles within me. Like the moon, maybe I will be able to drip hopeful light into lonely rooms. I may seem ordinary to the world around me, but my heart is a thicket of tangled hope.

So be on the lookout for divine inspiration. Maybe that will be my goal this Lent (which begins this week already...goodness gracious.) I'll try to see things through heavenly glasses. I'll genuinely smile at people who annoy the crap out of me. I'll look in the mirror and resolve to love the girl I see. I'll take breaks from homework and instead of checking my phone, I'll step outside or do yoga. Most of all, I'll keep trying to be brave. I haven't forgotten my new years resolution yet :)

Society may label us as ordinary, but that word sizzles away in the midst of the fascinating souls I see everyday. Fall Out Boy had a point. We are wild, we are like young volcanoes. We don't belong to the world. We are inspired by angels, and they are inspired by our crazy lives.

~sugarcane in the easy morning~

~weathervanes my one and lonely~

 this is fascinates me. ^^

all of the art that I put in here I did not do,

 and I have no idea who did it, but they're just so cool I couldn't pass them by without sharing.

like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain...

One of the practice versions of my mom's Holy Family painting that sold at an auction for $950. woop woop. I'm so amazed by my mom...

~~Happy Lent everyone~~

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

—2 Cor. 3:17

Dazzling Precious Treasures

Refined I'll become the most dazzling precious treasure

I'll be treasured over all the earth.

                              —Flyleaf

"C'mon Cassidy! Watch this!"

My little sissy screeched at me as she bravely leaped over the Dora sprinkler stationed in our tiny backyard. I watched with fascination as Dora and her blue watering can spun round and round in quick little circles, which made the water fly through air and splash on my toes.

I quickly slurped at my cherry popsicle as the electric drips of sticky red sugar came racing down my arm. My tongue was already a flaming crimson color, and I rubbed the stubby tip of the popsicle on my lips to make it look like lipstick, the kind fancy ladies wear. Long strips of grass were sticking all over my wet legs, making me feel like Oscar the Grouch. I licked the last drips of my popsicle so I could race through the sprinklers with my sister again. I abandoned my bare popsicle stick and squealed as I booked it towards Dora. As I was gallantly hopping over Dora's bloodthirsty watering can, I slipped on the mushy grass and sank into its muddy juice. I grabbed my sister's hand as she galloped by, and she made a splat as she plopped down in the swampy grass right next to me. We pretended we were horses and neighed at each other, knowing exactly what the other was saying. Giggles erupted into the sky, and the sunshine soaked them right up. Now, every time I step outside in the backyard and inhale rays of sun, I feel giggles permeating through, filling me with innocent, divine joy.

The past few days here have been so balmy and spring-like that I can't help but think of warm summer-time memories. I have some crazy, silly memories from being little, things like building umbrella forts with Anna in our front yard, fabricating very specific stories for my Polly Pockets to live out, and choreographing our own Olympic Opening Ceremony with a Halloween cauldron in my friend's basement. My house was always a toy-factory wonderland because my mom designed (and still does design) little girl toys, and my imagination spun circles so big and fast that I sometimes lifted myself off the ground like a helicopter. My bookshelf was always throwing up because it was so full, and the books that piled up beside my bed sometimes towered over me. From the moment I fell in love with words, I was immersed in an unbreakable romance that has kept me passionate ever since. I wrote poems and stories and made my friends play "library" in my room with me. I was always a little different in elementary school, but I was okay with it, cause all the heroes in my favorite books were different. As a confused and offbeat little girl, I made mistakes, I wasn't always good, but I learned to live. I learned to forgive and be brave. I learned to be myself.

In honor of a new year of Respect Life, I wanted to write something about the sheer beauty of living. Abortion is an issue I feel strongly about. It's wrong, and it's grasped the heartbeat and life out of millions of unborn babies who never even got the chance to climb an old grandpa tree or be embraced in a lovingly suffocating hug. In America, there are 265 abortions for every 100 live births (movementforabetteramerica.org). It's a scary truth about our society.

Abortion is awful, and although I consider myself pro-life, I think respecting life goes beyond simply being against abortion. We have to be willing to love each human life even after a baby is born and grows up. Respecting life is committing to love others even when it's hard or out of our way. Respecting life is befriending the outcast. Respecting life is encouraging someone instead of belittling. It's giving our time, and money, to people who are struggling. It's putting others before ourselves. Respecting life is more than being pro-birth, it's being fascinated by the beauty within each individual and doing all we can to help them find abundant life. That's pro-life.

When I think of all the fascination life brings me every single day, how can we possibly grab that from a baby who doesn't have a say and not allow them to experience this big, crazy world? I realize that some circumstances with pregnancy are difficult or unexpected and unwanted, and it's seemingly easier to abort a baby. But life, with all of its beauty and danger, is a miracle. Sure, this world is full of heartache and dull pain and sharp pain and fear and guilt and all kinds of nasty emotions, but our souls are extraordinarily bright gems that cannot be crushed or destroyed by the vicious hammer of the world. Jesus already won our souls when he defeated all things evil and painful. And he is intricately immersed in our diamond lives. We are his treasure trove.

little treasures

Our bodies are imperfect and will decay, but our silvery souls will always thump with passion if we choose life over a monotonous survival. The souls of the aborted babies are still very much alive. We can remember that when we feel ourselves drifting through the world, not actually experiencing its wonder. Let's allow ourselves to abandon stress and worldly pursuits for a little while, and learn to fall deeply in love with our own thrilling stories. The pages bleed with fiery letters that refuse to line up in order. We burn, not because we're always in pain, but because we are consumed with a spirit so wild and free it bursts into flames within us.

Life is precious. It is wild and unpredictable, dangerous and full of wonder. On this dreary winter day, I'm reminded of summery memories and cherry popsicles, and how blessed I am to be experiencing the joy and heartache of this lovely and scary world. I pray for all the beautiful women who feel that abortion is their only option. I pray for all babies newly born, that they may live a passionate and radiant life, wherever they may be. I pray for every human to realize how much of a gift their own life is, and that they may find the strength to share that extraordinary gift.

 Missing Cali right about now...

Happy cousins

Sing it out, boy you've got to see what tomorrow brings

Sing it out, girl you've got to be what tomorrow needs.

                               —My Chemical Romance

The Year of Being Brave

Courage, dear heart

              --C.S. Lewis

No. I thought. I'm tired of being scared.

I want to be brave this year.

And with that, I pointed my skis straight down the mountain, and flew.

Ahhh. 2015! It's a shining new year, and I have a formal chance to scrape off that frothy layer of gunk that sits stale in my mind and obscures my dreams. Now I can begin again with an ambitious and fearless mindset, and I can make my once-upon-a-time dreams become a reality. I ended 2014 and began 2015 in a lovely way-- surrounded with good friends and lots of laughter. I saw fireworks explode in an icy sky that reminded me of shattered glass, and I ate extra-yummy Reese's with my best friend in her familiar kitchen, in the middle of a quiet and peaceful neighborhood. With that, I know 2015 will be a good year. Blessed and bursting with opportunity and joy. And chocolate and peanut butter.

This year, I'm not making any specific resolutions, just some abstract goals that I hope will enhance the colors already on my canvas. I've determined that I don't want to use pastels this year. I'm going for full on splatter paint in intense, passionate colors. And after I've splattered, I'll roll around in the wet paint until I become a masterpiece myself. Then everyone I touch will be stained with color too. It's one of those years.

2015 will be the year of being brave. I guess if I could pick a "word of the year," it would be brave, or courageous, or audacious, or gallant, or spirited. Even if I can't travel all over like I want to, I'm going to imagine more often. I'll dance more, and sing louder, and make an effort to love myself. I want to recognize and appreciate the small and precious moments that are sprinkled throughout my days. I want there to be fire in my lashes, and like Mary Oliver, I don't want to be demure or respectable. Let me be wild and free. It's the most glorious and mysterious thing to be alive and healthy, in a world and life that means something. I won't be perfect this year, but that's not what I want either. I want messy and beautifully breathless.

2014 was a life-changing year. The experiences still tickle my heart and my tongue licks the sky to tell about them. It was a year of growth and finding who I am. It was chock-full of pure magic, joy, freedom, heartache, passion, fear, insecurity, anxiety, hope, and most of all, faith. But oh how lovely it was. I know I'm growing into someone, even though I'm not quite sure who she is yet. I've had my heart drop ten stories and splatter all over the place, but I've also had my heart feel like a glistening and musical beehive. And the bees lift me up, and I fly.

~2014 end of year recap~

My favorite experiences:
~Giving a personal talk to a group of middle schoolers on a church retreat. My talk was about prayer, and I found freedom in sharing my story. I hope it inspired those kids as much as they inspired me that weekend.
~Summer camp in Georgia. ( my blog post about that amazing week tells more about it). I grew so much in my faith. Pure peace does exist my friends! :)
~The peer counseling retreat. A lot of my favorite moments have been on retreats, but there's a reason for that. They help me realize there's more to life than the artificiality of reality!
~Going to six awesome concerts with even awesomer friends

My biggest accomplishment:
~I wouldn't say just one big thing, but a bunch of little things that string together like pearls to make a glowing, ivory chain of silvery memories. I guess keeping straight A's has been an accomplishment, with AP classes and such. Maybe getting my first job. Starting a blog has been incredible, and the response to it has been so humbling and dream-come-trueish.

My favorite place to visit:
~California, hands down. I feel so at home there. I loved going back last February and seeing California in Winter (another post that sums it up :) and, of course, smiling endlessly in the magical universe that is Disneyland. And Ethan's Bar Mitzvah was a neat adventure.
~Chadron, Nebraska has a place in my heart as well. The prairie is the most non-judgmental landscape ever, and I pour my heart out to the grass silently as we drive through it, with the sky as our destination. (read this post to understand exactly how I feel about the prairie)

Chadron in Winter. View from Grandma and Papa's window

The best meal is:
~Beau Jo's pizza in Idaho Springs. I had it for the first time this year, and holy Lord in heaven above. I never understood why people got so excited over pizza until now. I mean, you dip the crust in honey! It's a meal and dessert all in one!

If I have a free day, I like to:
~Cuddle up with a book and read, write, go running.

My favorite book:
~Okay, I'll just make a list of favorite books I've read this year, because how am I supposed to pick just one??
A Thousand Splendid Suns By Khaled Hosseini (sooo heartbreakingly good. It's about two women in Afghanistan during the 1980s/90s, and cuts deep into what sisterhood and love really are, and the tragedies women endure in that part of the world. I highly recommend if you want a book that leaves an impact.)
The Glass Castle By Jeannette Walls (Okay, so, I actually had to read this as my summer reading book for school, but it's so so good. It's a memoir about the author's childhood, and how she grew up with lunatic parents who knew nothing about parenting, yet she was able to break free and follow her dreams.)
Vampires in the Lemon Grove by Karen Russell (If you get tingles simply from reading a rich, delicious, artfully crafted sentence, read this book. It's a collection of grotesque and intriguing short stories, all to leave you breathless because of the author's ability to form a descriptive, beautiful sentence. I loved this one.)
Blue Horses by Mary Oliver (I got this for Christmas. It's a collection of poems, and they are so real and phenomenal and I want to be Mary Oliver when I grow up.)
The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd (She's another one of those authors who is incredibly talented and can form a luscious sentence. The story is captivating, and you won't be able to put it down. It's about slavery in Charleston in the early 1800's, and about the bond between the slave girl and the young girl who owns her.)

My favorite movie:
~I saw Pretty in Pink for the first time this year. I'm obsessed with her outfits in that movie!

One way I'd like to grow in 2015:
Spiritually--digging deeper into my Catholic faith. And of course, there's always more need for prayer and surrender.
Mentally--be braver, take more chances
Physically--I'd love to run a 10k this year. Maybe?

Other goals: less Facebook and Pinterest, more reading and writing. Less comparing myself, more appreciating what I have. Less stressing, more praying.

I desperately want God to take over my year. I want him to tell me what to do and where to go. I'm not allowing anyone else, not even my parents or friends, do this for me. I want him to lead me where he wants.

Here's to being brave. And flying on skis.

Happy 2015!

So, to start with my resolution of being brave, I wrote out all the things I'm stressed/scared about for the upcoming year. I put the list at Jesus' and Mary's feet, so to speak, and every time I see it, I trust that they are taking care of it. I guess now it's time for me to be brave, no burdens in sight!

 Peyton gave me an Olaf waffle maker for my birthday. An Olaf waffle maker. How can you not be completely overjoyed when eating an Olaf waffle??

 For Christmas, Grandma made each of us granddaughters a quilt. Mine is a Heritage quilt, so each square means something about our family. Notice the Elvis square...

 I'm in love

How exciting is this! A custom clipboard with my blog! And look how pretty it is!

On my birthday, Grandma and Camryn sewed a giant stocking for me so I could lay in one like I did as a newborn. There you go. 

Sparkle Eyes

 

And if my stocking hung too high,
Would it blur the Christmas glee,
That not a Santa Claus could reach
The altitude of me?
                                                 -- Emily Dickinson

Wait for it...

Christmasssssssss! It's sparkle season, ugly sweater season, hot chocolate season, fireplace season, fuzzy blanket season, singing season, everything warm and cuddly season! Seeing how Christmas is only four days away, and I'm just now getting the chance to do a little writing, it's proof to me that time whizzes past me and leaves me all dismantled. When I finally straighten myself out, I'm stunned. I also turn 17 in five days. (!!!) I don't feel like I should be 17. I mean, I do, but I really don't.

You'll shoot your eye out kid

Anyways, I've loved the pretty lights, the happy music, the fancy parties, and this entire season itself. After all, I am a December baby. Maybe I was born with some extra Christmas-joy syrup in me. I guess I belong in a stocking, like I was when I was a tiny baby. Safe and sound, tucked away high above a fireplace. Invincible and burritoed in fuzzyness. 

I think about that sometimes when I see people get so caught up in the commercialism of Christmas. I want to distance myself from that. In those moments, I want to stay high above it in a safe stocking, and watch the whole thing play out beneath me like a moving-toy village. It's overwhelming. Christmas isn't very peaceful.

The lights are spectacular, and I love the music, but I have a headache. So I close my eyes for a minute.

It's dark and hazy. I must be sitting on dry hay, cause it's poking through my jeans like little toothpicks. It's dusty in here, and the particles swirl around like little fairies. It smells like the color yellow, like musty hay and cow manure. (I must be in Nebraska. I have to be.) The air is so thick that I could swipe my hand through it and clump it up like play-doh. It's also incredibly hot in here, even though it's December. I wipe sweat off my lip. I hear some cows mmmeeeeeeerrr next to me and chew their cud. I start thinking of all the things that make my heart feel sore, cause that's what I do when I'm alone staring at hay. A horsefly lands on my thigh and starts rubbing his legs together, looking like he's about to murder me. I swat at him. All of a sudden, I feel enormously lonely. Like the heart I have doesn't belong to me anymore. Since when did I start feeling so much? I think I'm blistering inside. Feelings that are much sharper than this hay are biting me. And they won't let go, no matter how hard I try to yank them off. Wow. Some Christmas.

I thought maybe Christmas would numb the pain. I thought maybe the magical air would leak into my system and help coat the yucky sores. It doesn't really work that way though. Christmas is beautiful, but it's so much more complex than seemingly happy moments. Christmas is raw. It is full of every emotion, good and bad. Joy and loneliness. Peace and chaos. Fear and excitement. Christmas is the beginning of a glorious romance, one between us and a Savior. Sure, we all want a white Christmas, but the real Christmas was smelly, dusty, hot, and painful. But it was breathtaking in every way, an absolute miracle. And that is something that society, or any light show, or any present, or any kiss under the mistletoe could never compare with.

Yes, I feel lonely sometimes. I can feel distant and scared. But I know who I am, and I'm not any of those things. I bleed a rich color of beautiful insanity. My eyes glitter with passion, and words are hidden in every intricate vein that dances beneath my skin. I feel so much, and my heart breaks, but I am strong because of a baby born in a barn on Christmas.

So we have hope. We have hope because of Christmas. And we can sparkle a little brighter this year, and sing a little louder, and hug a little longer because we are blessed to be able to do these things freely in America. We are raw human beings, and Christmas itself may not heal our sores, but the God who was born in a smelly barn that day can.

Have the merriest of Christmases dear readers. Don't forget the gift you carry inside of you, the sparkling gift of your spirit, passion, and life. Eat all the cookies you can, and of course, jump for joy on Christmas morning. :)

You mustn't be afraid to sparkle a little brighter, darling.

                                                                -- Kirsten Kuehn

Ok this snowman dude makes me so happy :) a two-year-old made it at my mom's
Squiggles to Grins art class.

 Sam and I made gingerbread houses...and we only used a little bit of hot glue...

 After mi choir concierto

 hahaha

 hahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAH

We took the light-rail downtown and saw The Nutcracker! It was magical!

Santa Stampede with Todd! And Laura cause she came over for breakfast afterwards :)

Merry Christmas!

My Messy Versailles

I've gone for too long living like I'm not alive

So I'm gonna start over tonight, beginning with you and I.

-Paramore

My room looks like an absolute disaster at the moment. The rejected clothes I tried on this morning are sprawled out on my floor and my bed, basking in the new scenery and loving the freedom of not being balled up in a drawer. Little do they know they'll return tomorrow morning, when I might find the time to pick them up. My desk has contents vital to my school existence shrewn about, grazing the carpet and Ikea swivel chair with such leisure, like they truly belong there. Messy and un-bothered.

The thing is, this circus that I'm living in, this disastrous palace of books and clothes and music, is exactly like the chaos in my heart. Instead of golden leaves, my Versailles is decorated with words and prayers hiding in every corner. Some are shinier than others, but my life is filled with them. My castle isn't made of stone and chandeliers. It's made of dried-up pens and tattered journals and quotes and books. It's made of me. 

Every morning just the same, since the morning that we came, to this poor provincial town.

My life has been a circus. And I've been in every single act and show, and I'm constantly on the road. It's been ingrained into my routine to think of what's ahead of me in my day instead of truly enjoying the moment I'm in. I feel like I haven't been truly at home in the longest time. So, I decided to quit. I did actually. I quit my job. I'm slowing down ever so slightly. I'm cleaning my palace bit by bit. Like Belle sings in Beauty and the Beast, every day and anxious feeling becomes the same. The circus is relentless. Somehow we manage as teenagers, but our hearts are tired from the anticipation and we're sticky from all the cheap cotton candy gunk. We may appear to be good jugglers, but sometimes we drop a ball and it all comes crashing down.

There must be more than this provincial life!

I know there's more to living than acting in a pretend circus. I have to remind myself of this every minute I worry about things I can't control, or how I look, or what the future will bring. Every minute that I spend worrying about these things is a minute I could be spending in prayer, a minute talking to someone I love, a minute writing, a minute laughing.

It snowed for the first time a few days ago. The puffy, dry, fleshy snowflakes that don't really fall down, but dance around in the cold air like they're lost and can't decide where to land. Like they love the snowflake next to them too much and want to keep twirling with them until the sun shines again. These are my favorite snowflakes. The wonderful thing about them is that we are forced to enjoy them in the very instant they are there. When one lands on you, you have to stare at it and ponder it's every intricate detail before the whole masterpiece melts on your coat and disappears forever. Kind of like the moments in our lives. So often we miss the masterpiece because we're in a hurry. This is exactly how I've felt for months on end. But I'm done. I'm quitting the circus. I'm sticking my tongue out at the sky and letting mini treasures land on my tongue and melt into my cracked lips. I wish I could see the future. All I know is that this winter season my heart has been in might be coming to an end. This rose is blooming. 

This past weekend, I went on a retreat with the peer counseling group at my school. We had a blast goofing off and forgetting about the world, especially when we went zip-lining and did a high ropes course in the snow. The flakes fell all day. What I realized on this retreat is that teenagers, and everyone really, endure incredible amounts of pain. Sometimes we just can't handle it. Our hearts feel like they erode from the acidic pain until we're completely numb. So numb that we think life isn't worth it anymore.

But right there is when we need to wake up from the numbness and make ourselves realize how real we are. Our hearts explode every second from combinations of pain and joy. We are so real, and the poverty we suffer is a need to feel worth. But how can we not see that a beating heart is worth it? A mind that thinks incredible thoughts and hearts that feel such intensity that we erupt? We are worth it, because there's a God who put us where we are for a reason. Through the pain we suffer, we might be someone else's reason for staying alive. We might be the spark they need. There is a man who really did die an excruciating death for us, so that we can live and be sure of getting to heaven. We are loved so immensely by a God that never leaves us. He flushes the acidic pain from our hearts and is ready to flood our souls with real, refreshing water. We are meant to live. We are meant to be alive. We will change the world and find joy if we can hold Christ's hand through the pain we're feeling now. He has felt it all before, and all he offers is his love and grace. And we will be swept away. He'll dance with us in our own ballroom of our own Versailles, wherever that may be. Until the day that we will see him face-to-face, and our hearts will literally explode with joy. And no more pain will ever exist, ever.

Breathe with me. Let's watch icy miracles drift from a concrete sky. Let's go to the edge of the earth together and dance until the pain evaporates. Our cold hands will tremble with joy. We'll shiver because we are alive.

Lord Jesus, thank you that I'm breathing easier. Thank you for this messy life, and please carry us when we feel that life is too much. Remind us of your grace. In your name, scatter the demons that lie to us. Instead, consume us with your truth. Fill our lungs with overwhelming passion to pursue our dreams, especially the ones that scare us. And dance with us in our cluttered and chaotic palaces, until the glorious day that we finally come home to you.

 Speaking of the French...

Historically accurate Belle

Crazy sisters

I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born, says the Lord. 

Isaiah 66:9

October Angels

"I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers."

—Anne Shirley

I think heaven must be a never-ending autumn. I bet angels go on long walks through woods that burn with color and eat giant Honeycrisp apples for every meal. I bet they dance under a ceaseless ocean of stars and cuddle under warm blankets. I bet their hearts are so full in this autumn-heaven that no one has time to be stressed or sad. Only joy and comfort exist in a place so bombarded with beauty and laughter. I'd love to live where angels bake heavenly pie and the sound of pure laughter rustles in the trees.

I adore this time of year. I love Octobers and crisp air; the lovely, chilly air that filters through our lungs and cleanses us of all the worldly junk. I love the clicking sound that the leaves make on the street when it's windy, like they are tap-dancing into an unknown destination. Our lives are recycled in the fall. It's so exciting to see a fresh free-spiritedness in everyone, kind of like the one at the beginning of summer. Bright eyes and real smiles give me hope. As for me, I thrive in cold weather and ugly sweaters. I like seeing my breath because it's proof to me that I'm still overwhelmingly alive. I'm like a dragon. I breathe fire. But sometimes it's hard to feel that way when I'm intricately woven into a routine. But in the rare moments when I rip myself from the itchy fabric of daily life, I feel like fall. I feel crisp and joyful and anxious all at the same time.

 Two weekends ago, my whole family (including grandma Juju!) went up to Vail and stayed in a fancy hotel at Beaver Creek for my sister's soccer tournament. The leaves literally throbbed with color and the whole time I felt like I was inside of a painting on a wall of a grand museum. I love my Colorado mountains, and I'm pretty sure I've left little glops of my heart in different places up there. Even though the scenery and everything about the trip was fabulous, what made it even better was sharing a room and bed with my sister and staying up way too late laughing about nothing. We had tears pouring from our eyes over the stupidest things I've ever heard, and it gave me a lovely reassurance that my sister and I truly are the biggest dorks I know (side note for my cc: do you know what a p.y.t. is? Cause when a p.y.t. walks in front of a tree, do the creep ;) (credit to urban dictionary and strange songs of our childhood...)

What I realized in that moment though, is that we literally bottle up our laughter because life won't let us laugh. It wants us to cry and stress and doubt. It's exhausting to wrestle with the violent emotions that the world shoves at us. Sometimes I just want to shrink to a point of invisibility and give up. My laughter is clotted in my veins and my hands start to turn blue because they need someone who will hold them. Maybe that's why God created Octobers. So restless air can cure our withering souls and invigorate our stale hearts. Jesus is this air. He is every single microscopic molecule that we breathe in, and he dances in our delicate lungs and gives us life, not just existence. He is so close to us that his breath is our breath. I'm learning that it doesn't matter how far we feel from him, because the truth is that he is so close we are breathing him in unconsciously. Trust me, I have felt so far from him lately, and I've been knotted in my own sin and fear. Yet he somehow untangles me from my stinging soul. He's proving to me in mini revelations and joyful moments that he is here. And he never left.

I have been so stressed out since school started. I wrote about this last time as well, (which, by the way, I'm so sorry I haven't written in more than a month! Not even okay! I'll try to do better. I promise.) Anyway, it's been a weird stress where I haven't been worried over one specific thing, but collective a pile of things that stink in the corner of my mind. It's basically the future. I'm scared. I really am. There's not a fancy or pretty way to say that. I think my dreams are logically too big for my mind. My heart is ready to explode from excitement and hope, but I realize some things are too much to take on. The only truth I'm sure of is that there is a God. And this God is knows my name and created my restless soul.

Since my last blog, I've had some wonderful experiences with the most inspiring people. Lately I've started to second guess my dreams, wondering if they really were too big, too unattainable, too crazy for me. I'm young and confused and still trying to figure out what the heck life is even about anyway, but at the same time I've been with inspiring souls that have made me even more confused but all the more hopeful. The "journalist" in me loves to encounter people who live with such passion and have miraculous stories to tell (everyone does. That's what's so beautiful about humans.) These people are proof to me that yucky emotions don't destroy us. There's my best friend who didn't let fear hold her back a few years ago, and now she's an amazing dancer. She showed me her collection of ballet shoes a couple weeks back, and they are so worn down and stained with blood and glory. I loved it. She inspires me. There's the awesome group of peer counselors who inspire me to push through despite heartache. Even babysitting and watching Veggie Tales reminds me that God loves me. No matter how far I feel from him, he decorates my life with little clues to finding him. My heart desires him in a way that no other thing can satisfy.

Although I sometimes feel like the world is hitching a ride on my shoulders and I just want to give up, God allows the miraculous to happen. Is it possible for me to feel so excited and so worried about life at the same time? Can I feel loved and lonely, disappointed and lighthearted all at once? Well, I'm feeling all of these things. And they've all started to melt into one grand notion in my heart: life.

But then there are moments when I'm thankful for the rush of emotions in my ambitious heart. I'm thankful for the bravery inside of me that wants to follow my dreams, no matter how insanely impossible they are. I'm thankful for the small moments that will stick in my heart forever. The ones that fill me up with sugary syrup and make me ooze with joy. I want my mind to play continuous reruns of happy memories. Moments like dancing in parking lots under a carpet of stars with the one person I'm beginning to want to spend all my time with. Moments like singing old Everly Brothers songs with my dad. Moments like being lazy and watching 80s movies with my bestest friend. Moments like sitting here on my bed in my room, smelling the "Mimi smell" cause I'm next to her old bolo ties, and simply writing.

16 is weird. I want to escape and travel everywhere and write forever, but at the same time I never want to leave home. I'm so all over the place right now, and I'm not even sure what I've been trying to say this entire post. I guess the main thing is that I'm still worried about life, but God is knitted into my soul and my dreams are still vibrantly alive in my heart. I need to learn to shed these twisted feelings and laugh. I'll let the slimy emotions bleed into a burning array of color. I need to let them soak out of every cell in my body so I breathe with intensity like autumn trees.

Hold my cold hands. Intoxicate me with chilly autumn air. Laugh with me like you never had a single worry. Hug me until I melt. Then let me fall off of this world like a dead leaf, so I can crumble and decay on a sidewalk of stars.

 Vail

 Look who's taller! ;)

We want them all

 Ugly sweater season again <3

Homecoming with Pey

Highlands Ranch Mansion...the ultimate haunted house. But it's so pretty!

Arthur knows what's up...my fall break basically :)

I must be a mermaid. I have no fear of depths, and a great fear of shallow living.

— Anais Nin