hello again (not the Shelley Long movie)

Dear You,

It's crisp today where I live. Cool and crunchy and sunshiney, just the way I like it. One of those grinning, happy days where the littlest things seem to be going right. The normally grumpy barista, the one with the booming baritone voice, actually smiled at me today. I found an unexpected gem at the library. My top knot is perfectly centered on my head (this does not happen.)

God is speaking today, probably because I'm actually starting to listen. That foggy, in-between season is gone and there are certainties now, hazy dreams made definite. I need a sweater outside, no questions asked. I am starting a new job this week, no doubt about it. A new job after almost three months of unemployment and worse, uncertainty. Questions are becoming answers.

Perhaps you noticed I fell of the bandwagon with this 31 days series. It was more like a duck and roll off the bandwagon, if you really want to know. It's hard to write to others out of fear and loneliness; those thoughts were better expressed in the lined pages of my diary where I could be as obnoxious and loud as I wanted (my diary, probably, is the only place I'm ever loud. Except maybe when the Ravens win the SuperBowl but really, that's it.)

Things that have happened in my absense:

- Went to a wedding in Ohio, during which I accidentally went into the men's restroom. I realized that it was the men's restroom when I stumbled into my husband.

- I set up my very first dentist appointment since moving here (actually, since getting married, period. Don't judge me.) I glanced at the map, was sure I knew where it was, and headed out. Apparently I did not, in fact, know where it was because I stopped at not one, not two, not three, but FOUR different dentist offices all withing a two-mile radius and none of them was the one I was looking for. And I'm probably typing this with a head full of cavities.

- I got (or, the Lord so graciously blessed me with) a job at Anthro-freakin-pologie. The land of paper mache mushrooms and displays that would make Martha Stewart weak in the knees. After applying for so many jobs that I secretly hoped I wouldn't get, I was beyond elated when this came almost out of nowhere. I am so, so happy.


So, here I am. Writing because I can't help it, because these strings of words followed me all the way up my apartment steps and haven't left me since.

Three more days of having my days all to myself, and I am ditching the to-do list (well, for the most part; laundry doesn't do itself. Although I'd like to know why not, if we can have phones that talk to us.) in favor of a stack of library books and a husband who miraculously has nowhere to be the next couple days. There are bright, happy things ahead in this season, and I pray the same for each of you.


Love,

H

real talk

Dear You,

After a long weekend of driving and wedding festivities, I am content to sit here and watch the rain, fourth cup of coffee in my hand because that's allowed on Mondays.

Can I tell you a secret? Last week was miserable for me. Like, dark night of the soul kind of miserable. As Anne of Green Gables would say, I was "in the depths of despair."

Okay, it wasn't that bad.

Not trying to be all dramatic here. But it was hard.

As many of you know, I moved across North Carolina five months ago with my husband, and still haven't found a stable job. What's worse it that I don't even know what kind of job I'm looking for, which leads me to all those awful, "What is the purpose of my life?" thoughts. I was cranky and lonely and even a little jealous of my husband, who is living his dream job and actually interacting with people during the day.

Even worse, I was completely stuck in my novel-writing, convinced that I should just give up because nothing will ever come of it, anyway.

Is this whiny and depressing? Bear with me.

So I was reading a book by the fantastic Julia Cameron, and the book was, ironically, about being in  a slump, creative and otherwise. And she said that artists, in particular, are tempted to get "drunk on anxiety", a state in which it is impossible to move forward in almost every area of life.

Drunk on anxiety.

I finally had a name to what I was experiencing. It was time for me to sober up and let God back in.

So today, I am taking small steps. I am going to write words that encourage others (and, let's be honest, myself) and look for God in the small things. In the book, Cameron talks about finding God in cleaning, in baking bread, in washing her hair. I love that. Because though it sounds silly and simple, but it's not as silly as wallowing in self-pity on the couch and wondering where God is.

I'm setting out to find Him today. I hope you do, too.


Love,

H

like leaves on the sidewalk

Dear You,

I may not personally know you, but I know that you are important. More important than you think. You add so much color to this world, even in those moments when you're distracted by thinking of what you could do better, how you could improve on this or that, too caught up in whatever you hair is doing today to think about changing the world. You really do have such an impact on those around you, even when that's the furthest thing from your mind.

Maybe you're tired. Maybe you've spent your whole life comparing yourself to other people, becoming obsessive in finding all the ways you'll never measure up. Life is too short for that. Stop wondering what other people think or do. You (you!) have something to offer, something that no one else could ever replicate.

So do it your own unique way. Spread joy, love, hope in a way that feels true to your own gifts and abilities. Don't try to be the best.

Just try, period.

Take a risk. Put yourself out there for the sake of someone else. Do something that pulls you out of yourself. And watch as beauty and friendship and opportunity unfold around you like leaves piling onto the sidewalk; like finding a five dollar bill in your pocket or a compliment from a stranger.

So what are you waiting for? What are you letting hold you back?

The world's waiting for someone like you.


Love,

H

Sunday letter

Dear You,

I don't have much to say today, other than that lemon water is really, really good.

Try it. Good for ya.

And then maybe close your laptop because, hey, it's Sunday. The Internet will be here tomorrow.


Love,

H

dear you

Dear You,

If you're feeling lonely today, sad and confused and waiting for something, anything to happen, anything to shake up your world a little bit...

Know that you're not the only one.

Love,

H

new mercies and pumpkin muffins

Dear You,

Good morning. I hope it's crisp and sunshiney where you are and that somewhere within your reach is a basket of chocolate chip pumpkin muffins.

So. How are you today? But, no, really. How are you?

Are you over the moon excited about something lovely coming your way--a wedding, a move, a picnic in the park with your favorite person? Are you struggling with mixed emotions about something, something you know you should be grateful for? Are you angry, tired, jealous, feeling left out, bored, irritable? Hangry?

Sometimes I'm a mix of all those things in one day. The day will start out like poetry. I sip coffee on the porch, soak in so much love and wisdom and joy from Him that I almost burst. Dance in the kitchen, alone, as I put away the dishes from last night's dinner. Take a walk out into the fall breeze and the sunshine, waving hello to neighbors and little dogs that I normally hate because they bark out the window all night.

And after riding that cloud of bliss into the afternoon, something happens. And I wonder if all the good moments of the day were already all used up that morning. Because now I'm bored and lonely and sick of it all. Sick of feeling those same frustrations. Sick of feeling stuck.

The next morning starts again, bloated with hope and more sunshine.

His mercies are new every morning.

No matter how beautifully or awfully your day starts, it won't necessarily stay that way. Bad days have a way of turning around, and good mornings don't always last.

So don't put all your stock into the morning. Make a ritual out of it, of course. Sip your coffee and listen for direction for your day. But the key is to keep listening. Keep seeking Him and His promises long after the caffeine buzz has worn off and you've forgotten what Bible verses you read that morning.

His mercies are new every morning and, really, every moment of the day.


Love,

H

know who you are

Dear You,

Know who you are and surround yourself with people who tell you the good things about yourself. Who know that you love your coffee black and that you prefer Jimmy Stewart movies to whatever is on TV. Even those who love you most will never truly understand the depths and corners of your heart, but they will try. They will listen for the things you say about yourself over and over, "I'm an old soul, I have a nose big enough to ski off of, I need to stop eating peanut butter crackers all day," and they will reiterate the good things and deny the untruths you tell yourself and others.

These people are rare, the ones who can listen to who you say you are and sift through what is true and what is not. Some people have it made up in their minds the kind of person you are, and nothing you do or say will ever change that. But the rare few are quick to listen and slow to judge. More interested in enjoying the person you are than fitting you into a box they fashion for you.

Find those people. And learn how to be that person for others.

Love,

H

embrace

Dear You,

Today is a challenge to embrace the day.

To embrace the mess on the kitchen counter and see it as a symbol of life being lived in all its messy, human glory.

To embrace those closest to you, whose laugh and favorite songs you've known by heart for as long as you can remember.

Embrace the truth that you are so loved today, sitting there in the pink pajama pants you've worn every night this week, sleep still crumbly in your eyes, to-do list already full with things you've been putting off all week.

Embrace your limitations. They are not a hindrance, but rather a gift. You can't write poetry? Fine, pour your heart into journal entries. You'll never be as good a decorator as that other girl? Good. Get over it and focus on your baking ability. Accept what your gifts are and are not.

Embrace your flaws, that blemish on your chin that never seems to go away, your habit of sharing too much with strangers, the fact that you will probably never enjoy cooking. Don't take them so seriously, at least not today. Laugh at them, make fun of them. That's what they're there for, anyway.

Embrace your home. Cozy up in your favorite chair, light a cinnamony fall candle, read that magazine that's been on your coffee table for weeks now.

Embrace the chores and errands and routine. Give an extra smile to the cashier, twirl around a little when no one is looking as you scoot between store aisles.

 Embrace whatever song the day is humming. Maybe it's a slow song, a piercing piano solo that hangs between grey clouds and endless cups of chamomile. Maybe today is more of a Motown song or a saucy Latin number...in that case, I suggest you dance along with it. Or at least snap your fingers.


Love,

H

the loud stillness of fall

Dear You,

Can you hear it, the loud stillness of fall?
It's beautiful and alarming all at once.
It signals the beginning of things because, to me, fall is the start of the new year. With every crunch of leaves and slam of the coffeeshop door, I hear, "It's time. Time to start doing. Making things happen. Are you doing everything in your power to make your dreams come true?"

It's like all those inspiring quotes you see everywhere. On the Internet. In books. On bumper stickers. Inspiring words on Being All You Can Be and Achieving Your Dreams and Climbing That Mountain. A slice of wisdom from Einstein here, a lovely thought from the Buddha there.

I'm a sucker for those go-get-em quotes. I write them in my journal, I frame them, I consider getting them tattooed somewhere (just kidding, Mom.)

But sometimes I get overwhelmed. My mind is so full of these voices saying "Go! Do!" that I forget the much quiter voice saying, "Be still and know..."

My mind is filled with so much inspiration that I'm getting filled with words of Eleanor Roosevelt instead of words of God. And I have a feeling I'm not the only one.

Make yourself a really, really big mug of chai. Look at your planner, calendar, to-do list, and give it all to Jesus. Pour all your passion and energy into Him, and He promises that the rest will follow.

There is time for hard work and doing, but only if we are first finding Him in the still and the quiet.

You are more than your to-do list. You are more than your dreams.

Can I say this? You are more than your calling.

Frankly, I'm sick of getting inspired. I'm ready to be empowered.

Because, as I was reminded by a handsome bearded man I know, at the end of the day it's not about what we accomplish. It's about finding our identity in Christ and Christ alone. (I don't know about you, but the Christ alone is the hard part for me.)

Give yourself a break. Relax. The world's not going to end if you don't accomplish xyz, no matter what the bumper stickers tell you.

I've left my porch door open for the better part of the afternoon. It let a couple bugs in, but the sounds of autumn are now strung through my apartment. The crack of branches, the impossibly high note of the sparrows. And I'm not trying to drown them out anymore. Because now instead of chaos, they whisper, "peace" and "be still."

That, anyway, is what I'm hearing.



Love,

H

31 days of love letters

I thought maybe I would take a break from blogging for October.

I wasn't sure that it was life-giving to me anymore, that it served any real purpose. Is it worth it? Does it point to Jesus and not to me? I didn't know, but I was getting tired of worrying about it.

And so, just as I was about to announce my break, I began to hear about The Nester's 31 Days of Blogging in October. And I kept coming back to that, as if something was telling me I needed to do it.

That doesn't make sense, I thought. I'm trying to take a break here, not write for thirty-one days straight. Besides, what would I even be able to write about for that many consecutive days?

And suddenly things began to connect in my mind. I've been a long-time fan of More Love Letters, the organization that encourages letter-writing to stragers, leaving notes of encouragement on park benches, cafe tables, etc. I don't do this as often as I'd like, but love it when I do.

I thought, why not write love letters right here? To the lovely people who find their way to this tiny corner of the Internet?

So this will be my blog for the next month, nothing but letters. I don't want to do an awkward, lengthy introduction to it, but I thought I'd give you a little heads up.

See you here tomorrow, friends :)