No crib for a bed.

There was never room for Jesus.
He came into the world in leftover hay
and who would have thought that just a baby

could break into the (un)stables of our hearts?

There was never room for Jesus.
But thank God He made room for us.

thank God for finals!

At the end of the day, I truly have to thank God that I have somehow been given the privilege of taking my 4th set of university level final exams.

Yes, fellow college students, it is a privilege.

While we are anxiously typing away on our Macbook Pros, sitting in well-heated, well-lit rooms with an endless supply of tea, the latest hipster music, fighting the impulse to check facebook and praying to make a passable grade in a 5 credit class, there are millions of people in the world whose prayer this evening is that they can live one more day just to support their child. That they can find food in the next dumpster. That they won't get raped tonight. That the rebel forces wont attack their village. Hoping against hope they don't lose their job. Wishing upon a star for a loving family. Crying to the Father for protection against an addiction. Screaming the pain of endless depression.

Yes, our brains have been stretched. But we need to stretch our paradigms too, and realize that

We are the lucky few.

Never stop celebrating the gift of higher education. It is a blessing that many cannot even fathom.

Celebration!

Tonight, with one finger jammed up his nose and the other hand stifling a fit of hiccuping laughter, my 4 year old cousin asked me if I picked my boogers to "celebrate".

"Hmmm...celebrate what?" I asked, trying stoically not to give into the silliness. After all, a babysitter, above all else, must make sure that the kids are asleep by the time the parents get home. At this rate, between booger chats, chicken nuggets, superhero jokes and the Land Before Time (not to mention the insistence of my 2 year old cousin to change into "prettier" pajamas), my chances of fulfilling the sitter requirements were slim to none.

As if that weren't enough, my cousin's look of mocking disbelief for asking how picking one's nose could possibly be cause for celebration made me feel like hope was lost.

"You know" he spoon fed to me "... celebrate BOOGERS!"

oh.

of course. How could i be so dense? The point of picking your nose is to celebrate boogers.

The point of boogers is so that we can pick our nose so that we can celebrate.

Such a simple concept, but so true.

The point of having Christmas is to celebrate Jesus.

The point of taking exams is to celebrate learning.

The point of attending parties is to celebrate friendship.

The point of writing is to celebrate reading.

The point of praying is to celebrate God.

My booger of a cousin has taught me something incredible.

Too often, we get caught with our fingers up our noses, searching for substance in the darkness.

But we can't just get caught up in the picking.

We have to remember the point.

We were created to celebrate.

I give thanks

1. For the God who showed me the meaning of grace, and then has the grace to show me again when I (still) fall.

2.For the mother who gave birth to me, and her incredible sacrifice.

3. For a family that allows me to be authentically humorous, passionately lazy, creatively overwhelmed, cross-wired, cross-worded and cross-cultural.

4. For Carmen Marie, because she has and continues to facilitate an inspired side of me that I never knew could exist, and sees substance in my emptiest of times.

5. For Alex, who encourages me to straighten my priorities, asks about my day and enables my love for bacon.

6. For my roommates Wizard and Mego, who put up with my ADD 24/7 and are still excited to cook meals together and to know the ins and outs of my life.

7. For someone who shall remain unnamed, for forgiving my possessive attempts at love.

8. For everyone who has ever showed me genuine friendship

9. For health, which, with every minor setback, has taught me that life is temporary but good.

10. For beauty and the language of love.

11. For the blessings that are disguised, and for those that are apparent.

12. For all the women at Hope Place, who taught me that I am beautifully broken.

13. For the outstanding opportunity to be educated in a supportive environment

14. For the freedom to say, write, or do what I believe is right without having to fear for my life.

15. For my love/hate relationship with technology, and the invention of the "OFF" button.

16. For my passion to help others, along with the guidance and skills to do so.

17. For the ability to whistle, sing, hum, drum, run, skip, walk, hop, dance, sit, slide, yell, cry, smile, laugh and be angry-- that they might always serve me well.

18. For writing, as an outlet and as a companion that I will always know to be a mystery.

19. For the way a baby can fall asleep in your arms, and for the overly dramatic steps of a toddler learning to walk. They offer perspective.

20. For my puppies, who have provided countless hours of amusement and cuddly warmth.

21. For a job in a difficult economy

22. For memories and the experiences that create them.

23. For time which offers perspective, healing and the ability to fly.

24. For music. It has changed my mind and soul.

25. For sunsets over the Olympics, or anywhere, really.

26. For Bacon, and it's deliciously artery-clogging goodness.

"I thank you, Lord, just for the ability to thank you."

So really.

Thanks.

cross town bus and mint-flavored snowflakes

We sat in the Sub-Sahara and tried to pretend like there wasn't sand in our food.

Like something could still be made out of nothing, even though we've used that up too.

Outside it was snowing just to reflect what I was missing.

I've seen you do that gesture a 135000 times and it still isn't endearing.

Just now realizing that the only similarities we can share are coverup-mints and

brand- name coats between lines that attempt to spell jealousy.

I dont regret it, but I do have a list of all the other things my time could have purchased.

Its funny, how much we will tell someone we no longer trust to be a part of our lives.

Lets just say that the snow will never stick as long as you're trying to walk the same old path.

Its always going to hang you over. and we owe each other nothing.

Old Friends/Bookends

I'm at a point in my life where I'm starting to realize that everything I've ever known or learned in life I gained from Simon and Garfunkel. I continue to continue to pretend that my life will never end, like a still-life watercolor as I sit and drink my coffee and hide behind the shield of my illusion. Sometimes I know I'm fakin' it-- not really makin it to scarborough fair. But April, come she will. And june will change my tune, to parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, tyme, time.

It's a dangling conversation.

It rarely ever rhymes.

perfect insignificance.

I realized a dream today.

It was stupid, really.

But I plodded into that stadium with memories of swifter shoes

and kicked up leaves that were dying to be turned.

No leaves left I made the right decision, sat with the evens, faced down the odds.

For an eternally brief over-an-hour I chatted with the empties and contemplated the crowds

that could have been there

like they were last time

on that turf-on-turf covered concrete field

when i fell asleep to sunny whistle songs

with a chubby girl and her once lover friends

i heard the shins once.

felt my shins twice.

i sat in an empty stadium today.

it was a lovely game.