A thing for coffee shops

I have a thing for coffee shops, I really do. They function as my damsel-in-distress setting where a gallant young gentleman holding a tall pike place roast takes the chair across from mine and sweeps me off my stubborn feet.

Silly, maybe. But even if I’m not consciously playing this scenario in my head, it returns without fail. My reoccurring dream in the hours of the living. It’s almost as far fetched as my “When Harry Met Sally” complex. Both of which refuse to leave my caffeinated mind. This vivid fantasy does even more damage to my impossible hopes (yes, hopes) when the procrastination fairy comes and waves her magic wand over what little productivity I possess and I continue to sip, and to ponder. Symptoms include: a stomach with too much coffee and too little food, a blank word doc, an untouched novel (just to appear even more like a cliché), and eyes focused upward and to the right like I’m deep in thought over a philosophical theory, when in reality I’m narrating my ideal facial reaction to such an encounter with my intuitive knight in shining caffeine.

If there is even the slightest hint of melancholy or an overcast afternoon, my knight begins to gain facial features, maybe an eclectic music taste, a hint of scruff. Rain is a writer’s muse. Ask anyone who feels their words hold any amount of significance-they adore rain. Melancholy, nostalgia, longing, reminiscence, yearning, romance, ache, sorrow. These are words that arouse us. We who sit in coffee shops and wait for someone to find us among the sugary mochas, the abstract wall art, the wobbly wooden tables. We who continue to sip our coffee long after it looses its warmth. We who pack up our belongings slowly, just in case our knight decides to make an appearance. We who hear the thud of our paper cup once full of vain expectations into the trash as the day trembles on.
We who wait, wait no longer.

"But as for me, I will look to the Lord;

I will wait for the God of my salvation;

my God will hear me."

Micah 7:7

Tears Makes Me Tired

Grace isn't some of the time.

It's all of the time.

And maybe God has reassured you of this. Maybe your heart has heard whispers of worth this week, and if that be the case, I praise God!
He is honest, He never ceases to reassure us,
but lately my stubborn heart has turned away and attempted to hide amongst the chaos of lies.

Have you ever tried to hide from God?

“Am I a God who is near,” declares the Lord,“And not a God far off?

“Can a man hide himself in hiding places so I do not see him?” declares the Lord.

“Do I not fill the heavens and the earth?” declares the Lord.

Jeremiah 23:23-24

Could It Be Another Change?

Happy October morning my dear friends!

I have been positively giddy over the notion that this saturday morning is my own (I really need to stop posting about Saturday mornings, I'm sure it gets old). However, it's been quite a while since I've spent some time with a blank word document.

The past several weekends have been overflowing with joy, laughter, truth, long drives, hard questions, pictures of the future, prayer of all kinds, and too much caffeine. I don't even have pictures to sift through the october weeks with, but I have words. Fall break was an incredible blessing and got to spend 5 days in my Minnesota home with my people.
football games
late night laughter
morning coffee with the parents
grace
gulps of the future
listless evenings
afternoon walks
un-conditions
naps with the puppy
purple comforters
joy

And then there is home. Here home. Home with dusty blinds and no heat. Home that houses evening prayers with sisters that fill my heart. Home where Gilmore Girls doesn't have to turn off. Home of the mini-dishwasher and wannabe-artsy picture frames. Home of fuzzy slippers and as much coffee as we please. Home of my current life. I will not forget this home. Home that housed squealing, giggly girls for a sleepover three weeks ago. Home of spontaneous dolphin noises and dramatic facial expressions. Home to three daughters of the Almighty (and a hispanic family in the basement....)

"Ahh, Home

Let me come Home

Home is wherever I'm with you"

You Make Beautiful Things Out of Us

This was a weekend for joy.

For watching as new lips whisper, "Christ is Lord."

For coincidences in people's lives soon acknowledged are not coincidences at all, but providence.

It was a weekend for tears of redemption, loss, discovery.

A weekend of Jesus making beautiful things out of the dust.

Love always, Madeline

Asleep by The Smiths
Vapour Trail by Ride
Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel
A Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum
Time of No Reply by Nick Drake
Dear Prudence by The Beatles
Gypsy by Suzanne Vega
Nights in White Satin by The Moody Blues
Daydream by The Smashing Pumpkins
Dusk by Genesis
MLK by U2
Blackbird by The Beatles
Landslide by Fleetwood Mac
Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana
Another Brick in the Wall, Part II by Pink Floyd
Something by The Beatles
School's Out by Alice Cooper
Autumn Leaves by Nat King Cole
Broken Wings by Mr. Mister
Asleep by The Smiths

I get to go home today

Can't wait for my favorite view.

I don't love you, but I always will.

The immaturity of my tone always surprises me when I reread old snippets of my scattered thoughts captured on paper. In this case it's an old "draft" saved in the depths of my hotmail account planted there over a year ago so that I would find it today. This semester. The semester I began to verbalize, that yes, yes I do in fact want to write. For a living. For the glory of God. Whatever the heck that means. Though at the this moment, I don't care that I don't have a clue (okay, maybe a little bit, who doesn't??), I don't care for the skepticism I meet in dinner conversation, the question marks plastered everywhere, the writer's block, the pretentious air of a college English classroom. I won't stop. I won't.

Which is why I laughed today. In between a french novel translation and procrastination I found it. An old word document I used with dramatic exclamation points and hints of sarcasm. I wrote it in the middle of my shift as a web writer for a local Albuquerque news station (sounds cooler than it was-trust me). Though I was clearly bored and pondering my future (what else would a college student do on a Tuesday afternoon?) So I thought it worthy of a post today.

I’m just gonna throw it out there though, that I know exactly what I want to do, or that I want to be good at…I want to be a writer. I don’t want some day job, underneath it all, writing is the only thing I want to do. The only thing I feel right doing, but who doesn’t? Who doesn’t feel like their mind is intelligent enough to share a few stories and weave it together with a well-versed vocabulary? I know so many people who are “aspiring writers” and I know that the only way to be a writer is to get another job as well. Everyone wants to be published. Everyone wants to be JK Rowling. Everyone wants their books to be adapted into a film and have A-List actors star in it because let’s face it, that’s the new thing. So where does this leave me? Where does this leave the college student 19 year old who watches everyone walk around her with a purpose, a point to their majors, and a specific goal accompanied by a significant other and a dream house picked out in “Home and Garden.” I want to throw up at the thought. Even though I’m unsure…I’m sure I don’t want that. I don’t want a plan, but I want reassurance that I can do this. That the characters in my head can come to life and people will like it. I don’t want a college-boyfriend-soon-to-be-fiancé-with-kids-before-25 life! I can’t stand the thought. I would love a boyfriend, sure I would, but when I allow myself to go past the obvious pros for a boyfriend (long hugs, someone to rant to, a date on holidays), and keep going on what it means to really have to be attached to someone so young…it makes me see what I really truly want. I want to be a writer. I want to travel, so I can write about it. We can only write about what we know, given that we also have an imagination to twist it, but how can I write about what I know when I haven’t lived enough to know anything?? If I allow time for my experiences to grow and to meet unexpected people and have crappy jobs so my characters can grow, meet unexpected people, and have crappy jobs. I want to be a writer, and I think I could be good. Hallelujah to the fact that my writing skills HAVE NOT peaked. I hope they are crap now so that I can get better and better and finally have something worthwhile to say and not just say something so that I can fulfill my ambitions to write. This rant is jumbled and doesn’t make sense; I don’t even have to read it back to know that. Yikes. But this is my mind, and these are the thoughts running through it. Let’s just leave it at this: I want to be a writer, I’m well aware of the number of people who aspire to write the great American novel, but I don’t care. I’m going to write no matter what, even if I’m stuck in a suffocating office, but deep down I know my life cannot be satisfied unless I’m writing fiction novels. I’m trusting God with this one, He already knows where I’m headed and where I’m going to end up, so the rest is up to Him.

So overdramatic, my goodness. When I wrote this, I had NO idea I was going to Europe with my sister the following summer. This is it. These are the threads in my story that weave together that shout MY GOD HEARS ME. He hears me. He answers me. Once I submit to Him, He is faithful. Though really, He is faithful without me being "good."

Let there be.

Sometimes you just need a quick stop at Bruegger's to treat yourself to an early lunch and savor a breakfast sandwich that tastes like home. Grateful for friends that take my breath away with a crackly voicemail letting me know they want to take me to my doctor's appointment tomorrow at 7am. Grateful for an hour to myself in a different setting. Grateful for the coming days. Grateful for rest that doesn't always mean sleep. Grateful for windy mornings. Grateful for sweet sweet hallelujah's. Grateful for roommates that smile at me with understanding in their eyes. Grateful for hope that is in Christ.

Procrastination at it's finest.

Even though I am at Starbucks to be productive (snort), I thought it would be much more enjoyable to post some wedding pictures from the weekend. There aren't many, but the ones I do have are worth posting! It was my first wedding *pause for jaws to drop and gasps erupt* and it was lovely. Praise God for such a beautiful day!

After the ceremony-woohoo marriage!

Sunny and I with our beautiful Toria who was her sister's Maid of Honor

Anna and Laura-two absolutely gorgeous women of God!

Cupcake?

Shine and Line. Yep, we're just that obnoxious.

Rebecca's college Bible study came (including Anna!)

Sunny and I with sweet Kylie-love this girl so dearly!

Mr. and Mrs. Ayala!

It was a day worthy of all praise! I am grateful the Lord allowed me to play apart in their day (by Sunny and I guarding the cupcake table, obviously). But really, getting to witness their first day of marriage and dance my pants off was a wonderful experience! Yay God!