More good things.

1. Sitting in the back of an empty van eating In N Out fries, with a wet and sandy Sunshine, licking ketchup off our fingers, listening to "Froggy Went a'Courtin'" on A Prairie Home Companion.
2. Playing like seals in the spray and surf and seaweed of the Pacific ocean with said exuberant Sunshine earlier in the day.
3. Having a friend read about how Raindrops, carrying sometimes painful rain, can also be seen as bringing flowers...
4. Sitting and listening as that same friend talked about her excitement and plans for the future, and hope in a good God.

Quality Interaction.

I like her. A lot.

Mark 4:33-34

"With many similar parables Jesus spoke the word to them, as much as they could understand. He did not say anything to them without using a parable. But when he was alone with his own disciples, he explained everything."

Oh. thank goodness.

On Company.

A brief update: I've decided to peacefully coexist with Harold, my opossum downstairs roommate. There is really no reason why we shouldn't be ok sharing this little plot of land that belongs to neither of us in the first place. He's ugly. But he's not evil. So we won't make war.

On Potential.

I feel these days that
I'm in my cocoon.
But it's warm in here. And God does a lot of work in a chrysalis, when it doesn't seem to move or grow. He works on the inside, weaving veins and cultivating a heart and preparing wings. I like taking walks in the dusk and feeling the night sky fall upon the town, by myself, but not alone.... I am coming to realize.
-------------------------------------

You're a seed full of life, just about to burst forth from the earth, to grow into a strong sturdy tree. I want to, in my wormy, caterpillar stage crawl over, under the dirt, and play with you.

But we have to wait,
till we break forth from these shells and breach the surface...
Where the clouds are and the wind blows and the sun sparkles.
When I'm a butterfly, and you're a tree.
Whatever that means... But I think...
It will all be better that way.

Wisdom.

Eating an unbaked pie is disgusting.
Yes, this is a metaphore.

To Those Interested:

I live in a little room in the backyard.
As I write this, there is a possum trying to make his way through my floorboards. It's very noisy. And my bed actually wiggles a little bit as he scratches. At least I hope it's that opposom that's been around lately. I dearly wish it not to be the skunk family moved in again. They've already sprayed once down there, and my whole room smelled like skunk for weeks - even after I did my best to wash everthing.

Whoever it is, they are very loud. Maybe it's a neighborhood-critter reunion and they've even got the racoons in on it. Well, I am trying to get into my "Snow White Spirit" and pretend like I'm overjoyed that they are all here to keep me company tonight, because I know really, these animals aren't scary.

I feel like if we were to confront each other though, it'd feel like some encounter between two armies that don't speak the same language. We'd both be afraid and not know how to communicate, and not really understand why we're at war. But run from each other nonetheless.

So, I'm just a little jumpy right now. Knowing they're so near. Perhaps I should get a screen door, so that when I leave my door open all day, they won't sneak in and hide under my bed to awake me in the night with a super-close surprise. I don't think I could maintain my inner Snow-White composure if that chanced to happen.

My current resting ground...

I call it "The Hen House." (A.K.A: the old tool shed)

Good Things From This Thursday

I picked flowers by the side of the road today; I hardly noticed them, until they were right in front of me, tiny, and white and pure and lovely. The prettiest things sometimes are the ones we have to look the hardest for.... (but also sometimes, when we're not looking at all, that's when we finally notice them)

There is a mourning dove's nest just outside our bathroom window in the bougainvillea. All day long, three, hatched babies peep and tweet and stretch their tiny mouths, waiting to be fed, so their feathers grow, so they can fly. 

I had a good conversation with my Dad about wanderlust and "adventure spirit" and hungers inside us and drives and things that push us. It reminded me that I just have to ask if I want to have a conversation with someone.

I had a really nice talk with the lady who rung me out at the garden store. More than anything, I hope one day she can find a very nice little place to call home with a little plot of land where she can plant a garden and watch it grow. It's so nice to talk about God with a stranger, in the middle of this planet where so many are still asleep.

People, throughout all the ages, have somehow, mysteriously, miraculously,  made it through tough times and against overwhelming odds. I will think of them, when I can't speak for 11 days, and every swallow hurts to the point of tears for two weeks.

I shouldn't have researched tonsilectomy-

recovery horror-stories this afternoon. :-/