she didn’t have her vows, but all she had to say was, “i love you.” and that was enough.
and they lived happily ever after.
leo carillo ranch, carlsbad, ca.
…orange wednesday…
at the lake.
at the lake i am reminded of who i am.
i watched the fog, thick and heavy with grief sealing the lake closed, soul slow and steadily collapsing in.
at the lake i remember the way we laughed in the cold brisk mornings, bodies held close for warmth walking to the morning meal.
i watched the sun rise bursting from behind the mountains. we were girls in love with God. we worshiped.
at the lake i turned 14 and boys tied me to a tree and i pretended to hate it.
i watched sparks from around the fire pit light our faces playing games till the bell rang.
at the lake i remember when i turned from 19 to 20. alone. i asked God to find me here.
i watched my friend’s arms wrapped around her legs. rocking. sobbing. she had to say goodbye and it broke everything in her.
at the lake i remember my sister’s voice harmonizing, notes dancing like a waltz. hands held open.
i watched young girls find healing for the first time.
at the lake i ran to a boy and told him i liked him. he turned me down. but later he would became my husband.
i watched my boys fish and dig for worms and run in the wild wide open.
at the lake my soul can’t help but be held in longing.
i watched my layers stripping, falling, and soul spreading out smooth like glass.
at the lake i felt the light against my skin expose my story, the way only this lake can.
i watched as my husband spoke these words, “the greatest gift you can give is to know your own story.”
…orange wednesday…
freedom.
it’s quiet here now. my quiet soul falling on much open space. quiet, like a long soft hush. like sitting still in the vastness of grass and field for miles. in this quiet i think about all the noise, the glorious noises, that hugged their way through my walls in the last few days. the hugs that are always accompanied by laughter and long looks into eyes and extra squeezes. the noise that comes with celebration and victories and familiar faces. it has been a week of family and old friends that really have always been family. and when i took the kids to the park the other night, i felt what i’d been longing to feel for weeks now, maybe months, or perhaps years. it was like i was telling my friend, mindy, last night while we washed down the counter tops… it felt like space. i never realized how much of my mind was filled with so much unresolve. in all my ‘down time’ the space in between the things, the margins, all those cavities of space were filled with worry, filled with fix-it solutions, occupied with angst and anger. like the scorch of summer heat when hundreds of ants find refuge making a traffic jam in my hallway and as soon as i wipe them away, those pestering ants come right back in and this process continues on and on and on. all the space being filled by a slow and steady stream of torment. and even the tiniest spaces in my soul were filled with trying to make the wrong feel right. i told Mindy about how those places in me finally found space to breathe, to rest, to let go, to be at peace. she told me she didn’t know what it would be like to have freedom. but even in her troubled voice, i knew one day she would.
because that’s how freedom works. it chases you. it finds you. it pursues you even when you seem to be in a strangled web of darkness. and even while i was at the park with my kids climbing and chasing and crawling i saw how freedom works. it isn’t about a method or formula or good deed. freedom is a gift. the way it moves in us, releasing and reminding us of our design and purpose. freedom is a calling to come home. a whisper hemming our hearts into wholeness. like light streaming and pouring and singing its way through the trees as my children’s laughter circled around me. light sears space into the wounds and awakens us to glory. light, God’s divine love, opening and pursuing and delightfully declaring, “i see you.” a love that never comes to an end or halt or ‘i’ve had enough’ or ‘i’m disappointed’ or ‘you should have known better’ or falls silent or lazily hits snooze, no, no, no. His love never stops and His freedom never picks favorites. a light that never fades, searching, finding, scouring the dry and dreary land of our hearts, plowing, picking, and replacing the barren with abundance. and i’ve found freedom from the noose that i believed would always be there and i’ve seen pain gift and grace its way into some pretty dark caves i was covered in. and freedom… well, freedom, we are all either enslaving or we are setting free.
.
happy wednesday.
…orange wednesday…
being made new.
we got this torn up antique bench from the early 1900′s from a Coronado estate sale. it cost us $35. it sat in our garage for over a year, becoming a home to forgotten toys, wandering tools, and that over sized t-shirt that belonged to no one. we dreamed up at least 7 different places to fit it in our home, but none of those places ever seemed to fit. so we waited and almost gave it away a few times. until, after waiting long enough, we found a home for it as our backyard eating bench. i painted it yellow- twice. because the first yellow made me feel like puking. i visited my old friend Angel, the Mexican guy who reupholstered my bird chairs and i lived in the aisles of Jo Anne fabrics desperately texting fabric pictures to my reliable friends on which patterns to pick. and after repainting it and dressing our yellow bench with pillows of dancing colors, i’m happy to say it is done. it has been redone, it has been made new. sometimes broken things take a long time to be reborn.
happy wednesday!
by anjuli
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