Beautification

I have had some upsets in the last few weeks. First, I found out that my graduation date was not going to be May as I previously hoped. No, I'm going to be a December baby in birthday and graduation. The next disappointment was the false hope of moving into a "real" house. A real house with room in the kitchen to cook, and more than two rooms total. We, really just I, was psyched up about moving and being able to paint the walls. I crunched numbers. Never fun. I saw that our current paychecks would not facilitate a bigger rent bill, but I still hoped and prayed it would work out. Things looked up. The house was just within our grasp and then silly girl decided not to move. I'm not mad at her, it's really not her fault. I just let my heart get excited before I really gave it to the Lord.

So here we are. Still living in student housing; still sharing two walls with neighbors, and still with only about two feet for me to move in the kitchen. But I'm happy now. The Lord is good, really.

So, I started this beautification of my house. Ever since we moved in, the house has looked "just moved into." We still have boxes stashed in closets, and pictures leaning against the wall instead of hanging there. So the last few days I've been beautifying it. First, I decided I wanted more color in the house. So I had to find a way to get around not being able to paint the walls. So I decided to use those canvases left over from my years of attempted "artsyness," and paint them bright, cheery colors to hang on the wall. I now have two canvases, one purple, one blue (of course), leaning against the wall on the landing (haha, I know, I know. Still leaning). I also have a tall skinny canvas I painted in an extremely artsy way. I taped a line down the middle and then across, and I painted the squares red and blue. The problem is that when I pulled off the tape, I realized I had all but painted the British flag on my canvas. Oh well, I like looking cultured.
Today, my project has been to pain an old mirror someone gave us that looks pretty wickery (that's a word), and so I painted the cream wicker a rusty orange color, and I will probably lean it against the wall in my bedroom.

Today, I also: cleaned my bathroom, cooked apple cinnamon chicken burritos (my own recipe), hung up tons of clean clothes, went to school, and now I am trying to stay out of Everett's way as he reads the play he's supposed to read before his class tonight. I can't wait until we're both out of school.

I'm motivated to learn how to cook, but I don't know how to do that without getting off of my diet. Well, the diet (and the semester) are coming to an end, so maybe I'll find time and calories in three weeks.

It seems like I'm always just waiting...

I found out recently that I live my life waiting around for the next thing. Right now I am waiting for this semester to be over so I can have time. Time for what, you may ask--well I'll tell you. I want time to bake pumpkin bread, write without time constraints, come up with a new recipe for dinner and have time to fix it if all goes terrible wrong. I want time to drink coffee before it gets cold, and time to read a book without skimming. But here's what I've found out--life is always busy. There will always be the next thing that is about to happen, and I will always find things that need to be done I didn't account for.

Everett has just completed his masters and now it has us thinking, what next? Should he finish his Phd, go to law school, or both? Should I teach? Should I keep working at the clinic? Or is it time for kids? All these questions have to do with time--oh that precious time!

I haven't been enjoying the season that I am in currently.

I am busy and just wait for that week or month I think will be less busy so I can get caught up on laundry or whatever... but I'm learning to enjoy NOW. I am learning to ignore the dishes sometimes and enjoy my husband and be spontaneous. I am learning to pursue my husband, to pursue the Lord, and to wait on the Lord. Today is all I have, this is what I've learned.

I have had a busy day.

First, I slept until almost the very last second, read Haggai with my husband and then quickly took him to school.

I was so excited that I was finally well enough to leave my house, only to find (as I was scrubbing my kitchen) that I was still sick and could not leave. So I've been working on a revision to a story of mine called "mother of believers" that is about a muslim girl who is in quite a fix. I worked on those revisions from about 10a.m. until 3:30pm-- I revised the entire story.

Life has been interesting in the last few days. I have been humbled tremendously about my lack of love for the saints, and also have been fighting the urge to judge those who treat me unjustly.

What a dilemma.

I guess what I've found is that it's very difficult to be a Christian and still be human.

But last night, while I was struggling with feelings of inadequacy as a wife, my husband built me up and showed me that he valued me and loved me-- oh what a picture of what we are to be to the saints!

This is very disjointed and I apologize.

Jessie Wade

Marathon, not a sprint

This morning I rolled out of bed with a nudge from my husband, somehow changed clothes without fully waking up, and with Gu clipped to my shorts, went for a run in the rain. How is that for a long sentence?
When I first began running, I called my mom-- "If it starts storming, will you pick me up?" and I secretly hoped that it would storm.
It didn't storm.
You see, I was struck with an ailment this week that kept me from running my semi-long middle-of-the-week runs, so I thought, hey--I could just run the seven miler before the meeting this morning. The problem is that I have never run further than 4 miles by myself. So before I got to the pivotal moment of turning on the road to seven miles, or the four mile route I tried to talk myself out of running this stupid long distance so early in the morning.
But I had an epiphany. If I can't push myself to run seven miles by myself, what would I do if Abby decided not to run the marathon with me and there was no one left who ran at my pace? I had to run the seven by myself to prove to myself that I could do it. This epiphany led me to a better one. No one wants to keep on this path when they're tired. But as the world is decaying and the Lord is getting ready to take me home or to come here Himself, it is only going to get harder to stand on that solid foundation. We will be tired, worn out, and discouraged, at times. We will feel like we are running in a desert with ONLY the Lord to sustain us--no saints to keep us from stopping and sitting down--giving up.
We have to keep running.
Just keep running
Just keep running
Just keep running
This life with the Lord is a marathon, not a sprint.

Raging against the dying of the Light

This poem by Dylan Thomas struck me hard when I first heard it, so here I am. Two years later with the words still on my mind. This life is temporary. This is a lesson I've had to learn through seeing years of my life drift away while I remain sedentary and unchanged.

I have always desired to be an "artistic" person, able to laugh, sing, and dance with no regard for how it appears to other people. I have always wanted to learn how to paint and write, not to write and paint to express myself, but to express Jesus. But I have found myself for the past few years, very conscious of how I appear to my peers. I have spent countless hours and days "stalking" my friends and "friends" on facebook, and I have let many opportunities for true friendships pass me by because it was much easier with this one-sided relationship.
Why do I need to grab a cup of coffee with you if I can just look at your posted pictures to see what you have been up to? This life is too short to "save time" with friendships, this is what I have learned in the past few months.

Rage, Rage, against the dying of the light-- what light? Mr. Thomas, what were you really talking about?

Surely you were not speaking of just the dying of this life? No, it must go deeper- it must mean something that will carry on past death. Rage, rage against the dying of the Light.
The dying of the Light we have been given. Will I continue to waste time while there is still light? There is still time to learn, grow, and experience life. I'm not interested in experiencing life for what it can afford for me, no, I'm interested in experiencing life with my Savior, and learning to live with these wonderful people that have been placed in this small section of the swirling blue marble with me.

Do not go gentle into that goodnight
Rage, Rage, Against the dying of the light