maybe I am loved...

I was looking back at things I had written in the last year or so and they seem so odd. I write as my sounding board. My place for release. So yes all the ugly me gets to rear its head and open its mouth. But still reading some of this stuff is just so funny. There are some recurring themes that I could still rant about but... Mostly I think I have learned so much and maybe it is just understanding the ground rulesof life, but my friendships are and I am okay. So maybe I am loved seems appropriate thinking right now. Nobody is perfect, so peoples' love will not be perfect, and maybe after needy love comes real love. Real as in dented sometimes and beautiful the next.

Things I have learned or accepted:

• Love is love in any fractured state.
  
• Babies (anyone's) are truly gifts of grace.
  
• ADD medicine will not miraculously cure odd character traits.
  
• I have friends who love me.
  
• If the only friend I had was my mother, for the rest of my days, that would be okay.
  
• I really, really like my sister.
  
• I miss my Papa.
  
• I will be a damn fine nurse.
  
• Regret is a waste of tears.
  
• Minute by minute in faith is the best way to live.
  
• Some people talk and say nothing.
  
• Simplicity is underated.
  
• Insurance should be the right of all citizens.
  
• Being soft-hearted is not a curse.
  
• Protecting yourself takes too much out of life.
  
• I will live with my heart on my sleeve and my ideals in my eyes.
  
• God is with me. And I am still with him.
  
• Money is the root of all anxiety.
  
• I am a hippie mystic Christian.
  
• I will be okay.

The Birthday Present...

Last Thursday was my birthday. I turned twenty-six years old. It was a big birthday for me for various reasons, but amidst life plan reorganization and reflection came one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received...
After teaching at VBS that night I went over to the parsonage to sit and unwind in my customary way. Once there my wonderful friend Jessica handed me a box tied up in ribbon. Amid apologies about the wrapping and crafting of the gift I unwrapped something incredibly moving and special. It was a photo album expertly covered in blue burlap. It took me a few seconds to comprehend just what the album held. Very prettily displayed in protective coverings were letters and notes, well wishes for my birthday from the people in my life: friends, family, church members, even pets. I hadn't yet read the letters or made my way past the names of the first few contributers when I was overcome with emotion.
-Sitting here now trying to think up words to describe how I felt at that moment a single word seems to keep popping up- significance. Significance washed over me and I was honored and humbled and grateful.-
As I sat there trying to check my tears, hearing how she had contacted my family, friends, and our church members I was awed. Awed not only by her innovative thoughtfulness and everyone's ability to keep a secret, but also because I had no idea how much I wanted or needed to be a significant part of life for those around me. Her gift cemented in my mind and heart the knowledge that whether it was with a smile, a laugh or in song I had made impact.
Later when I got home I sat down and read all of the letters, notes and funny poems. Mostly as I read I smiled, at times I laughed out loud and yes, several times there were tears too. I went to bed that night with a happy heart and a little headache from all the tears, but most of all I went to bed grateful. And for me that was something I hadn't felt in a while. Grateful.
"And the Lord God arranged for a leafy plant to grow there, and soon it spread its broad leaves over Jonah's head, shading him from the sun. This eased some of his discomfort, and Jonah was very grateful..." Jonah 4:6

Why the Sparrow's Nest?

My first blog was entitled the Sparrow's nest. After three years of blogging somehow most of my blog was lost. I sill can't find some of the posts. But here I explain why I titled the blog thusly.

In Louisa May Alcott's Jack and Jill at the death of a child an old hymn is installed in the writing:
Not a sparrow falleth but its God doth know,
Just as when his mandate lays a monarch low;
Not a leaflet moveth, but its God doth see,
Think not, then, O mortal, God forgeteth thee.
Far more precious surely than the birds that fly
Is a Father’s image to a Father’s eye.
E’en thy hairs are numbered; trust Him full and free,
Cast thy cares before Him, He will comfort thee;
For God planted in thy breast a soul,
On his sacred tables doth thy name enroll.
Cheer thine heart, then, mortal, never faithless be,
He that marks the sparrows will remember thee.
So often I feel like a sparrow.

Alone.
Looking down upon the crowds of rushing ravenous people. Ravenous for hurry, for life, for the days end and days beginning. When all that I want is to find a nest somewhere to brave the wind and torrents of life.
I watch, and am as a sparrow alone upon the house top. --Psalm 102:7

Found.
It is odd how you can feel alone yet found in the same moment. I feel found when I remember how fond the Lord is of his people, how he truly madly loves me. That love is my nest.
Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God. --Psalm 84:3

So this is where I nest.