Joy for nothing in general, except everything in particular.

One of the best kinds of joy - the one that comes gifted in the form of a new kindred spirit kind of friendship.  A blessing that I found myself undoubtedly overwhelmed by this year.  I spotted her across the room of a most frequented (and favorite) coffee shop and knew I just had to meet her.  And I did.  Hours passed.  It was soon discovered: Before we came into each other's lives, we missed each other so bad.  (Carly Rae Jepsen communicates this clearly through her number one hit song, "Call Me Maybe").

Please note: This may in fact be one of our songs and we do have plans of making a music video together.  Please stay tuned for such a debut.

To top it off, we discovered that we were also in fact, neighbors.  She was officially the girl next door.

Since our meet cute, we've been those inseparable friends that like the days of growing up and playing with"neighborhood kids," we get to walk over, walk in, walk together, eat together, stay over super late, leave flowers and goodies on the door step, and door bell ditch.  Plus so much more that our future together will (God - willing) hold.

She is a gem.  She is gracious and beyond thoughtful.  A three part novel would likely be too short to describe her outstanding uniqueness.  And in an effort to keep my mascara on tonight (as we have our first group of campers arriving shortly), I will simply share one example of the many ways her delightful spirit and generous heart has brought me joy.

The night before I left for my summer here in Alaska, I received what has most definitely been selected for an award as one of the best cards I have ever received.  In addition, she gave me a special book called, "Guerrillas of Grace" that she carried with her during all of her travels abroad.  (Many of you know that there is no existence of a single word to describe the depth of sentimental qualities and enjoyment I have).

So as I spent a morning picking wildflowers (as photos illustrate below), I came across this prayer in "Guerillas of Grace."  A true reflection of the joy that I am thankful for through such friends as Madeline and the joy found through the simplicity of such things as picking wildflowers in a wide open field.  

"Extravagant God, waken in me a sense of joy, in just being alive, joy for nothing in general except everything in particular; joy in sun and rain, joy in soft light, through shyly disrobing trees, joy in the acolyte moon, joy in the beating of a thousand wings, mysteriously knowing which way is warm; joy in wagging tails and kids' smiles, joy in the taste of bread and wine, the smell of dawn, a touch, a song, a presence; joy in having what I cannot live without - other people to hold and cry and laugh with; joy in love, in you; and that all at first and last is grace."

All is well with my soul.  Ps. I love you Maddie. :)

Catalyst

On Friday, I went to a city - wide prayer and worship night for young professionals, called Catalyst.  To see a downtown warehouse full of abandoned hearts for Christ, was slightly overwhelming (in the best possible way).  I'm not going to pretend that it's not sometimes easier for my heart to call So Cal home, but I'm also not going to pretend that standing in that warehouse didn't immediately serve as a reminder to me that Seattle is currently where I am.  And though the gift of being "present" has been void of my life at times, I'm thankful that the worst of me is succeeded by the best of God.  The evening closed with the reading of 1 Corinthians 13 from The Message version.  I had never heard it before but listened with new ears this time around - and for the sake of documenting it, you now also have the opportunity to read it as well.  (Wink, wink). 


¹ If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. ²If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. ^3-7If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love. 

   Love never gives up. 
   Love cares more for others than for self. 
   Love doesn't want what it doesn't have. 
   Love doesn't strut, 
   Doesn't have a swelled head, 
   Doesn't force itself on others, 
   Isn't always "me first," 
   Doesn't fly off the handle, 
   Doesn't keep score of the sins of others, 
   Doesn't revel when others grovel, 
   Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, 
   Puts up with anything, 
   Trusts God always, 
   Always looks for the best, 
   Never looks back, 
   But keeps going to the end.

 ^8-10Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled.

 ¹¹When I was an infant at my mother's breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew up, I left those infant ways for good.

 ¹²We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!

 ¹³But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.

As you wait. (Or maybe as I wait).

It's taking me quite some time to really flush out all the thoughts for my next blog post, but in an effort to not lose momentum (like I've done many other times when trying to maintain a blog), I'm going to go the easy route (yes, again, and for the sake of holding you over) and share some good beats for this Monday afternoon.  And let's be honest, for you Seattlites, I would be a fool to skip acknowledgment that it's not just a Monday afternoon, but a sunny, windows down kind of Monday here in Seattle.

Whatever kind of inspiration you need to finish your Monday (or maybe even just start your Monday), playing these on repeat should help do the trick.  If nothing else, you know what I'm doing to kickstart some of the things I need to checky check off the to do list.  OR.  Who knows, maybe I'm in denial and playing songs that remind me of summer, over and over again, will convince the sun to stay.  And if we all do it?  Welp, power in numbers baby, power in numbers.

Deep Sea Diver: In Black & White from Sound on the Sound on Vimeo.

I prefer the bottom, thanks.

Is it just me or does anyone else ever feel like there are times in your life when you turn right, left, around, and then around again times ten, only to continue seeing the same themes surface?  It’s as obvious as seeing a blue apple everywhere you go and in everything you cast your eyes on. 

I was given the immense privilege of seeing the performance of “The Screwtape Letters” by C.S Lewis at the Paramount last night.  To say it was legitimately life changing would sound dramatic, so I just won't say it.  And I suppose I really won't know if it's indeed "life changing" until later down the road when I've actually had the time to take what was heard and learned and use it to make decisions different from those I would have made prior to the show. 

On paper and considering all things, my current position of life is definitely that of being in a trough.  Or as one of my previous blog posts allured to, at the bottom of the mountain.  And though there are a million and one things I want to say about last night's performance, I shall spare you and speak to just this one, for now. ;)  (But don't be fooled, I am reading the book for a second time and don't know if I will be able to resist sharing more down the road).

For those of you who haven't read the book, head to the bookstore now.  The two main characters in the story, Screwtape (the Uncle and assistant to "Our Father Below") and his nephew Wormwood (a novice demon) portray human life from the vantage point of the enemy, as they set out to secure the damnation of a young man's soul (you and I). 

About midway through the story, Screwtape sends a letter to Wormwood discussing how he must use the ups and downs of his patient's (the young man) life to yield his soul further and further from the Enemy (God). 

"To decide what the best use of it is, you must ask what use the Enemy wants to make of it, and then do the opposite.  Now it may surprise you to learn that in His efforts to get permanent possession of a soul, He relies on the troughs even more than on the peaks; some of His special favourites have gone through longer and deeper troughs than anyone else."

It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He (God) wants it to be.  Hence, the praying offered in the state of dryness are those which please Him best.

He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there, He is pleased even with their stumbles.  Do not be deceived, Wormwood.  Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round the universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

Wow.  I don't even think commentary is needed. 

Though I believe that my current life situation is seemingly more reflective of that in a trough than that on a peak, it's looking like I may have the better end of the deal anyway. 

This was further evidenced in church today when my Pastor ever so coincidentally spoke on Psalm 62 and the ever changing blend of abundance and suffering in our lives.  There are storms, but never storms without shelter.  Now, there may be a gap between when I think the storm should end and when it actually does, but it's precisely that gap (waiting) that brings the greatest intimacy with Christ. 

As I learn to discern and pluck out the voices of the Screwtapes and Wormwoods, I am thankful that God has currently seen me fit for a trough (or storm), as I am coming to find, understand, and some days simply choose this intimacy, as the greatest gift of all. 

So as I stood on the bluffs this afternoon, and though overlooking an breathtaking view of the Puget Sound, every ounce of me was anxiously ready to start descending down the trail to the beach.  For it was down there that I was able to pick up the shells, hunt for crabs, push on the clam holes and watch them spout up another ten feet away, and find shelter in the actual drift wood (I find God humorous).  And though I didn't know how long it would take us to ascend back up to the top of the bluff (or if my body was going to hate me at the end), I wouldn't have traded a single moment at the bottom.

"The best way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn." ~ Martin Luther

"The devil, the prowde spirit, cannot endure to be mocked." ~ Sir Thomas More

Mountain Moving.

The scope, magnitude, and majesty of mountains have always made the hairs on my arms stand up.  And I guarantee that even if my arms were completely waxed, the presence of moutains would still have a way of sprouting new hairs and making them stand up too.  The same is true of oceans.  I think it has something to do with being near and sitting before something so much larger than me.  I am but a mere ounce of plankton to the sea and a small piece of rock to the mountain (or maybe even just a pine needle if we are talking about the mountains in the Pacific Northwest).  Yet, despite how insignificant or small I feel to both of these things, they seem to be the place I run to when everything around me seems to get too big.  Maybe it's just my way of saying to the things around me getting seemingly larger, "There are still things physically larger than you."

I remember when I first moved to California, finding myself at the beach at 4AM, through tears, asking myself over and over again, "What am I doing?"  At that time, I had never felt so lost, had left my family, and everything that I had considered and deemed as stability in my life.  A wrestling match with God began and I was insistently not going to relent.  I demanded that God speak to me.  Demanded that he make just one dolphin jump in the crest of the waves.  After about two hours, a question surfaced in the forefront of my mind, "Would you still trust me even if I didn't say anything else to you, nor make a dolphin jump in the crest of the waves?"

It was one of those times where you can't figure out if that was your voice thinking of that question or if your conscience was just kicking in, or if you were starting to go delirious from the energy and exhaustion being consumed by your tears, or, or, or, or if that was really the Holy Spirit speaking to you.  Well, yes it's highly likely that I was delirious, but I can most confidently say that I would never ask myself that question especially in such a emotionally infused mindset.  And so the question just continued to repeat itself in my head.  It took every ounce and fabrication of my being to blurt out, "Yes!" 

It was another hour before I regained composure and as I confidently stood with a peaceful heart, I noticed about 7 dolphins riding the crests of the waves.  "You have got to be freaking kidding me!"  (I'm pretty sure that my voice was equivalent to that of a rooster wake - up call on a farm, but instead to all of Redondo Beach).  And I heard that same voice whisper, "Abundance."  So you can pretty much guess that despite thinking I was all out of tears at that point, the evaporation of the ocean had somehow found its way into my eyes, allowing me to create rivers all over again. 

I remember thinking, "My God knows me.  He sees me." 

Fast forward to this past November, when some life news sent me and a best friend (who had already been in town visiting - even more evidence that God was so ahead of me in planning) fleeing to the mountains.  I remember standing there in the midst of so much confusion thinking, "My God can move these suckers if He wants to!  And not just these suckers, but everything in my life that is trying to masquerade itself as an immovable mountain." 

This week, I've been reminded on more than one occasion (in addition to trying to remind myself), that though I stand before, and at the bottom of an entire range of mountains right now, my smallness keeps Him big.  My need for Him keeps Him as the Provider.

And I was perusing through the photos from that weekend at the bottom of the mountains, despite feeling as though we were being smashed and broken under the mountains, joy was still in abundance.  So it's just got to be possible, that the same can be true today, of this week, and every other week throughout the rest of my life when the very mountains that I flee to are the same mountains that crowd my life. 

Serving Breakfast Now

Cereal just got a whole lot better.

For you.





1 Cup of Sliced Almonds
1 Cup of Pumpkin Seeds
1 Cup of Walnuts
1 Cup of Pecans
1 Cup of Unsweetened Coconut Flakes

1 Cup of Dried (and Unsweetened) Cranberries
1 Tblsp. of Cinnamon
Mix all of these ingredients together and store in Mason Jars.





OR |

If you’re fiercely loyal to your cereal box (or have a spouse that doesn’t want you to touch his/her cereal), you can pull a little fake on him/her and store all of these ingredients in a large, plastic, ziplock bag, and put that inside your (or his/her) favorite cereal box.

Disclaimer: I’m only suggesting that you do this because I believe so deeply in the health benefits. Though as merely a suggester, I do not take responsibility for any “what happened to my cereal” anger. Only the joy that will sure to come with each passing bite.

When you are ready for consumption, pour/scoop 1 cup of the mixed ingredients into a bowl. Slice a piece of your favorite fresh fruit (I recommend bright red strawberries) to throw on top, followed by Coconut milk to your desired level of wet - ness (yes, that sounds weird by you know what I mean). The Coconut Vanilla milk is especially good with this. One of the best parts about this cereal is that it never gets soggy. You heard me folks, never. Sit there distratced by Facebook, forget about it while you scroll through your Instagram, or call your mother (which for most of us, can be a lengthy chitty chatty), and come back to your cereal to still hear the crunch between your teeth.

Get after it.

Is my normal, your normal?

Do you ever wake up thinking that you live on the wrong planet? Not because planet earth isn’t breathtaking or filled with wondorous things, but because nothing, absolutely nothing, seems to jive with, for, in, amidst, or among your day(ssssss)? If this is you, then you would be familiar with the following: Is this real liiiiiiife? Coined by the popular YouTube character, David, from David and the Dentist. But seriously, is this going to be forever?

Take this quiz to find out if your life resembles something other than normal. Or maybe, this is normal?

1. When teaching someone to use mace, you manage to spray yourself.
2. When loading your new Pottery Barn desk that you managed to find at a Thrift Store for a mere $10, into your Honda Civic, you ding your glass window. Glass window replacement: $135.
3. When street sweeping occurs, you are likely to be the only car on the wrong side of the street and find yourself standing on the corner in a floral nightie and towel turban (because of course this had to happen instantly after stepping one foot out of the shower) arguing your way out of a ticket with the parking officer.
4. You manage to pick up the one bag of flour in the grocery store that has a hole in the bottom, thus resulting in an aisle explosion.
5. Your Yogurtland lunch finds a way to line every crease in your purse before it reaches your mouth.
6. The home of your license is in your friend’s wallet, two states away, on more than one occasion.
7. You’re likely the target of getting a cell phone violation ticket while sitting in your driveway.
8. A good looking fella asks for your phone number, but you’re in an argument with your dad on your phone and yell “No!” at the precise time he asks.
9. You’re either overwhelmed or underwhelmed. Plain whelmed doesn’t exist.
10. You usually find out that your favorite band is playing one day after they’ve played.
11. You exchange your “yes” with a “meow” when talking to your barista because you just came from nannying. Or you just say meow too much.
12. You’re laptop music startles everyone in the coffee shop because you have your headphones plugged into the wrong jack.
13. When on E, you’ve thought about mixing water with your fuel to extend that E just a wee bit longer.
14. Though you won’t admit it, you have slipped in the shower due to the stellar dance moves you were practicing. Your loofa has also been your microphone.
15. You have to suppress the urge to throw pasta noodles when cooking, because you find it humorous to think about them sticking to the wall (or your roommate’s face).

Please tell me I’m not alone in the world.

Who We Be

As I mentioned in my previous post, I live with three outstanding ladies in an abode that is sometimes referred to as Primetime (we say “sometimes” because we are trying to maintain a level of humility in the rations of our cool - ness). But let’s be honest. Primetime is not only where the action happens - we arrrrrrre the action. And if you know us or knew us, you probably wouldn’t understand. Because what makes us the action, welp it’s the combination of us. Just think for a moment, about the days as a tot when mixing cereals was all the hype, 100% acceptable, and the most delightful thing to touch your lips (assuming you hadn’t kissed that cutie at recess). Ya, well we’re even better than that. (Insert humility here). Take a peek for yourself.

Roommate # 1: Cruising to us all the way from Northern California, she will do anything spontaneous as long as you give her a couple hours of notice. This does indeed exclude sharing wisdom, tacos, margaritas, smiles, and good reads. These things are always readily available. You should also bring her a can of green beans when you meet her. They are her favorite. She may “like” you after this, but you have to work harder for her to “love” you. Though, that won’t stop her from giving you a hug.

Roommate # 2: Coming to us all the way from Astoria (you may not even know where this is), she will infect you with her contagious laugh, surprise you in the living room at 5AM participating in a P90X session, and test your slope skills by boarding the mountains silly. She is so delightful that she makes you feel as though you met back in the womb.

Roommate # 3: Hailing to us from the distant land of the east side, Issaquah Washington, she will serve you a homemade breakfast and freshly brewed coffee in the shower (if you woke up before she could serve you in bed). And as a lover of paleo, there is never any question regarding the mere five minute gap between when the apple was picked from the tree and when it reached her mouth. The best part about her is that she is my sister and though it’s been 9 years since being under our parents roof, we have found ourselves re - united under a new roof, where the reality of our sisterisms shall be setting in at any moment.

There you have it folks.

Oh wait, did I mention that we all love to cook barefoot? It’s true. We welcome visitors and only charge a bottle of wine per entrance upon witnessing our Primetime show.

Disclaimer: Primetime really evolved because our address contains all prime numbers, something only one roommate noticed. Another roommate thought it was referring to a maternity term, another one didn’t question it, and the last one made an impulse decision to finalize it when the Cable guy was over installing our WiFi and needed a network name.

White Walls & Empty Halls

I live in a humble abode near the shores of Greenlake, with three outstanding ladies (more to come). The walls are bare and there is minimal furniture. The perfectionist tendencies in me are found to be slightly restless at times because of this, but soothed upon entering any neighborhood coffee shop. Yes the java is divine (especially when locally brewed and the owners give you their extra burlap coffee sacks), the people watching is good, the WiFi usually runs at high speed, but it’s the wall boards in particular that have become my new favorite thing. And thus, my reason for writing the following letter:

Dear Owner of Coffee Shop,

In at what times can be a hopeless world, you my friend (can I call you that?), have given me hope. Now, many most likely thank you for brewing a delightful steaming cup of java, or maybe the ambiance, cleanliness, and friendly staff. All of those things are indeed true, but that is not why I am writing you today. I would like to thank you for being a proprietor of the marvelous and truly helpful community board you have posted near the restrooms. As a marketer in the business world, I recognize that this board may not directly be maximizing scone sales and you are risking quite a bit allowing random community strangers to post jargon, text, content, and images that at times, have not gone through any sort of approval process. (You never know what crazy things people will do and though I am writing you this alphabet filled letter, I vow I am not one of them). But it is these precise thumb tacked notes, sometimes professionally designed and other times handwritten, that have led me to find some of the very treasures that are starting to make my naked casa, a clothed casa. (No, I’m not Spanish, but sometimes foreign language words are more fun than ours). Anyway, I’m thankful for the direction, wisdom, and avoidance of rabbit holes that this community board offers, and I look forward to not only the markets and mad deals matting the board, bidding for my mula, but the music and social delights that are sure to enhance my social calendar as well. I wish you all the best up sells (coffee and a pastry) and would pick no other shop de java to spend my greens at.

Forever committed to your roasting,

Ms. Taylor