Stuck in a Small World

One balmy summer evening just a few months ago, I was riding my bike west along Strathmore Avenue, chasing the fading glow on the horizon. I'd just finished a long ride with a friend, but after seeing him off, I had decided to take the long way home to see the sunset. Cycling west west west I crested the hill and then there it was, waiting for me. Pink and orange clouds, lit up by an invisible sun, swirled over shadows of silhouetted trees like painted portals to another place. The sight was simple, but so soulful, and I felt that if I could reach those clouds, they could take me to another planet.

At that moment, a thought swished into my head--like a little revelation: "It's so easy to get stuck in a small world."

It's so easy to get stuck in a small world.

The thought cycled though my mind on repeat for the rest of the ride. Stuck in a small world. That's not what I want to be. That's never what I want to be.

I think a lot of us live in sad little bubbles of sameness. We push the same snooze button on the same clock at the same time every morning. We drive the same road to work or school or wherever. We listen to the same radio stations. We stop at the same stop light. We stand in the same line at the same grocery store, with the same things in our cart. We see the same people. Think the same way. Repeat the same platitudes. We live in the same world.

There is so much that we don't know. So many places we haven't been, people we haven't met, things we haven't done. Am I the only one disheartened by this?

Sameness is so easy to fall into, because same=comfortable. I'm so afraid it will catch me. I'm afraid of being the same. 

Ay it's so easy to get stuck in a small world. Don't do that to yourself. Live big! Swim in the vastness of the ocean! Visit all the places! Meet all the people! Learn all the things!

Change is the law of life! It's beautiful! Embrace it!

Take me here instead!

In other kind of but not really related news, I regret to inform you that I'm going to have to bid adieu to this blog for the time being. Time to let go. I'm feeling a little untrue to myself since it has been, you know, almost two months since I lived in Washington, and Washington is not in the foreseeable future.

There are no more wishes from Washington, only wishes for Washington.

Oh but don't worry, I'll be returning someday. I'm too in love with that humid, hurried, heart-holding home of mine.

Until then... you can find me over here at my other blog.

Stay sameless,


<3 Jenna

Thoughts from Thursday: On Having Curly Hair

Having curly hair builds character.

Did you know that women with curly hair are statistically 65% more likely to have more character than their straight-haired counterparts?

Moral of the story: It's the curly friends you want. It's the curly wives you want. IT'S THE CURLY PRESIDENTS YOU WANT, OKAY??

I don't really remember the moment my hair became "curly." Nobody ever mentioned my having curly hair when I was a child--it was just golden and wavy and angelic. But some time during puberty, (I almost typed "pubic years." I don't think that's a thing... I hope that's not a thing.) my hair went from wavy to curly, and then it just kept getting curlier and curlier, until we reached critical mass:

Ready for a nuclear chain reaction.

Oh, I've tried to tame it. I've tried ironing it, diffusing it, braiding it. I've tested every single brand of mousse and gel on the market. I've used coconut oil and avacado oil and argon oil. I've washed it with honey, guacamole, even beer.

I bought a silk pillow case. I stopped washing the conditioner out. I piled it in a curly mass on top of my head, (affectionately dubbed "The Pineapple") before I went to sleep (ask Becky, she has a photographic evidence!).

Right now I'm in Phase 57 of How to Handle My Hair. In Phase 57, I use 5+ high-end hair products, the combined cost of which equals just about $100.  I never sleep on wet hair. I go up to 4 days without washing it. And my latest kick is to not comb it or even run my fingers through it--even when I'm in the shower. That way it's dirty and tangly all the time, but the effect is that it's actually less crazy. Imagine that. Curly hair is counter-intuitive like that.

Speaking of counter-intuitive, most people believe that curly hair can be cut the same way that straight hair can be cut. This is a big fat fallacy and one that the hair dressing community needs to understand already!!!

I don't think I've walked out of a hair salon happy since I was 13. Nobody can do it right! Nobody! Not two hours ago I walked out of a salon for curly hair and I still left disappointed (hence, this rant).

But honestly, even though these people were "curly-hair certified," my expectations were still low. Because really, it's just never going to look good.

If you see a girl with curly hair, chances are she's used to getting crappy hair cuts. She's used to leaving the salon with a smile, saying "Thanks--it looks good," and then getting in the car, looking in the review mirror, and laughing (or crying) (or swearing) because it happened again.

Chances are she spent her formative teen years trying to figure out what the heck to do with her unruly hair and then just got used to the idea of standing out.

Chances are she's spent tons of money and time and maybe even tears in search of products and gadgets and all manner of garbage to get her hair to behave "like everyone else's."

Chances are she's learned how to take all the off-hand comments about frizz, fluff, poodles, etc, etc.

Chances are she's been on a long journey of self-acceptance and she's come to a place where she's comfortable with they way she looks. She's embraced herself for who she is. She's stopped trying to fit the mold.

She has character--and lots of it.

Sitting in a classroom

Yesterday, as I was sitting in kinesiology class, listening to my professor lecture about the finer points of muscle origins and insertions in the foot, I looked out the window and what did I see?

The world.
Going on out there.
Without me.

I rested my chin in my hand and watched the setting sun bathe the mountains in orange. And then I had the sad little dejected thought:"What the heck am I doing in here? Why am I not standing at the top of that mountain? I am not a science person. I do not care about dorsi flexion or anterior displacement. I do not care that I'm supposedly ruining my feet by wearing flip-flops. I do not care that I don't "load my weight" correctly on my lateral arch and my gait is therefore screwed up.

I'll have you know, professor, that I hiked to the top of a waterfall once, in flip-flops. And I've walked the world on that arch, with that gait! And I intend to keep walking, even if I'm doing it wrong!"

Of course, I like education. I like to learn. And I realize that there are millions of people in the world who would give a lot of things to be in my shoes (my flip-flops, if you will) right now. But sometimes my brain gets a little warped by all the information going in and I just want to ditch school and catch the next flight to Budapest, you know?

There's this little Hasidic (not to be confused with sadistic) saying that is printed on a little piece of cardstock sitting on my dresser:

Everyone should carefully observe which way his heart draws him, and then choose that way with all his strength.

I've observed the way my heart has drawn me, and I've chosen the way.

Now to just stick with it. The mountains will still be there tomorrow. The sun will still set. You can't have it all, at least not all at once. And anything worth chasing requires a little bit of sacrifice and patience anyway, right?

Wasting Time

Since I don't live in Washington anymore, I should probably get over myself and start writing on my other blog (yes, I have another blog. Four other blogs, if we're getting technical). But I can't let it go! So let's just pretend that I still live there and I'm just on a little sabbatical to Utah for a minute.

Right now I should be finishing my lab assignment for physiology, which was due today, but I pulled my most flirtatious half-smile on my (really young) instructor today and tossed out an excuse about how I couldn't get Excel to work, and he said I could turn it in late. How late, I didn't ask. But I should probably get it done tonight.

Right now I should definitely be studying for my kinesiology test on Thursday. I have to memorize chapters one and two AND every flippin muscle in the body. Right now I've got gluteus maximus, IT band, and rhomboid major down pat. Only like, 103 others to go.

Pahaa-- what have I gotten myself into? I do not know. I have never felt so unmotivated to do school in my life. I like school, remember? But I'm just too absorbed in thinking about what I'm doing with my life to actually do anything with my life.

The struggle is so so real.

Anyway, please feel free to pray for me and then enjoy this picture of me and Becky G. at Harper's Ferry a few months ago. Would've been the perfect picture, if Becky had just put her arm around my waist instead of my shoulder, right?? Everybody knows that, Becky!!

Also, fun fact I just realized. At this very moment I'm wearing the exact same outfit as I'm wearing in this picture-- red shirt, jeans, hair in a bun. Crayzy.

Also, again, real quick-- I've noted like, 6 grammar/usage errors in this blog post and I'm not even going to fix them. Partially because I'm too lazy and partially because maybe I forgot how to fix them.

Proof I'm getting dumber by the minute! Give me back my brain cells!

On Stress

I've been feeling a lot of stress lately--more so than any other time in my life, I think. So much stress that I have scary and stressful dreams at night, my muscles are bunching to the point of chronic pain, and I frequently shed tears of exasperation. So much stress that I literally just had to pause this blog post to go puke in the toilet. I'm not even kidding. TMI? This is my blog!

Sometimes I get caught up in these negative thought processes, like "If I don't choose the right physiology professor, I won't pass this physiology class, if I don't pass the class, my pre-req GPA will be too low to get into OT school, and if I don't get into OT school, my life is ruined."

I think that's called a logical fallacy of the slippery slope variety. But I can't help it. My brain just does that to me.

But decisions. How does anybody ever go about making decisions? Everything affects everything, so one little slip-up could cost you your entire future!!

Everyone always says (wow, did you like that double hyperbole?), "Jenna, you expect way too much of yourself."

It kind of bothers me when people say that, because what am I supposed to do? Lower my expectations for myself? When did that ever do anyone any good? My expectations are high, but they're achievable, and it's high expectations that have gotten me this far in life.

It's more faith I need, not lower expectations. And with that faith I must try to convince myself that I can get an A in physiology even though I haven't taken the pre-reqs and my teacher flat out told me I probably wouldn't pass. That I can get all my volunteer hours in, ace the GRE, and write a killer personal essay without holing myself up in my room for the next four months. That I have a great purpose to fulfill, and even if I fail physiology, with God on my side I CANNOT FAIL at life. That He will most certainly provide a way.

Isn't that powerful--the thought that God is on your side? It's hard to remember sometimes, but God is in control. God knows WAY more about physiology than my physiology professor. In fact, God knows all there is to know about physiology. And He wants me to succeed. So I will. And I will put my trust in Him and not in the fleshy arm of Dr. T.

I can do hard things. This is my dream and I'm going for it. Because, in the words of the iCarly theme song, "There's no chance unless you take one."

What Am I Doing With My Life? and other minor conundrums...

Well guys.

I made the leap. I left my beautiful East Coast life to come back to Utah for school.

When I really think about it, I am kind of confused as to why I did what I did... (see below)

Pros of Staying in DC
-Fantastic roommates
-An adorable (cheap!) apartment in a great location
-Lots of real, fun friends
-Great ward with a bishopric who loves me!
-GREEN EVERYWHERE
-A job I like where I make lots of money
-Happy! I am (was) so HAPPY!

Pros of Moving to UT
............


You're probably thinking, "Well what the heck Jenna! Why did you ever think it was a good idea to leave DC??"

And I will tell you, "You know, I don't really know why I thought it was a good idea. I'm still not sure it was a good idea. But I'm acting on faith here, and hoping that that faith wasn't misplaced."

Because the truth is, I've felt compelled to return to this dry, arid motherland for months. Maybe that was me misreading the Spirit, but boy I sure hope not. Either way, here I sit, in the motherland. In a green chair in a lonely corner of the library at SLCC, to be exact. I'm trying really hard to stifle my superiority complex and find the good in this place. I'm trying really hard to give this all I've got. Because I made the leap. I took a chance, even if it was a stupid one. I'm chasing dreams.

In the wise words of the late Marina Keegan,

We’re so young. We’re so young. We’re twenty-two years old. We have so much time. There’s this sentiment I sometimes sense, creeping in our collective conscious as we lay alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out – that it is somehow too late. That others are somehow ahead. More accomplished, more specialized. More on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving. That it’s too late now to BEGIN a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.

What we have to remember is that we can still do anything. We can change our minds. We can start over. Get a post-bac or try writing for the first time. The notion that it’s too late to do anything is comical. It’s hilarious. We’re graduating college. We’re so young. We can’t, we MUST not lose this sense of possibility because in the end, it’s all we have.

Observations from a Metro Expert

Remember this post last year when I lost my veritable metro virginity and hated it?

Well now, after over a year of riding the metro almost every single day, I still don't really love it, but I have learned a lot. So please allow me to impart some of my wisdom to make your metro experience a little less painful:

1) Stand on the right side of the escalator if you're not going to walk up/down it, for crying out loud!

2) When you're coming into the metro tunnel and you feel the strong whoosh of wind, that means that both trains are coming at once, and they're almost to the platform! So walk faster if you want to catch one!

3) If you see a fairly populated car and one person sitting alone in the corner, there's probably a good reason for that. So to avoid having to deal with a weirdo, just pick a different car.

4) You don't have to wait for the fare gate to close after the person in front of you! It holds up the line!

5) The blue and red seats are less contaminated than the yellow and orange seats. Remember that.

6) Always wash your hands after holding onto the metal bars. Because those bars are not public health.

7) The drivers leave the doors open for longer when the trains and platforms are really crowded. So calm down! You're gonna get on!

Yeah yeah, so maybe I still have a love/hate relationship with the metro. But I've been feeling mostly love lately, what with all this building nostalgia and all. The other day I was riding home, squeaking wheels on the rickety track, and as we shot out of the tunnel into the daylight, I looked around at all the people and had to quell the urge to hug them all, grip their shoulders, and say, "Listen to me! I'm leaving this place!! Don't you understand?? I have to go and you get to stay and I hope you know how lucky you are!"

But that would have been weird. So I looked out the window instead.

Tuesday Turmoil: On Feelings

Today I had every intention of quitting my job.

I didn't quit my job.

I am ridiculous. I KNOW! But listen--I don't want to quit because quitting is for real. You can't quit and then un-quit if you change your mind. It's not like painting your toenails or dying your hair or posting a picture of a man in a bikini on your brother's Facebook page. You can't undo it! Once you quit your job, you quit your job. You're done. Unless your boss is Mother Theresa.

I know I'm supposed to leave. I am going to leave. My mom already has her flight out here, I've already registered for classes in Utah, there is already someone lined up to take my room.

But I can't do it! You guys, I am such a baby. I don't want to leave!

A big part of the problem, I've realized, is my feelings. I have so many feelings. TOO MANY FEELINGS. I must have been slipped an extra scoop of feelings from the feelings bucket in the pre-earth life, because I've never met anyone who feels as much as I do.

That's not to say I'm an emotional person. I keep my emotions in check. I like to believe I'm a composed, with-it kinda woman. I'm not the one sobbing over Finding Nemo or rocking back and forth in a corner because my fish died. I rarely cry in church; I hardly EVER cry in public. There was that one time in the LA airport when I found out I booked my flight for the wrong day, but that's a story for another time...

The feelings I'm talking about are the connections I make with people and with places and with experiences. I heap inordinate amounts of meaning onto everything. I develop love toward the strangest things: the smell of the metro tunnel; the daily bunny, squirrel, and deer sightings in my neighborhood; the rattle of the metro rumbling by our apartment every five minutes; the click of the lock on the front door; the bird stickers on my wall, the trees lining the street; the sunset from the Strathmore gazebo. And these are just the things! Imagine the feelings toward the people and places!

When I put down roots I put them down deep, which is a wonderful thing, when I'm laughing and loving and living in the moment. But when it's time to go, it's so painful to dig those roots up. It's like a literal ripping away. Remember when I left the Barlow last summer? There was physical pain. 

So this move I'm about to make is gonna be a big one, because this past year has absolutely been the best year of my life. I have never been so happy. I have never had so much fun. I have never felt so loved and so supported. My roots have grown down down down, to the very bottom of the wellspring of life. How am I supposed to dig them up?

How am I supposed to quit my job?

Colombia, the Country

Everything about me has been slow since we got back from Colombia. Slow to move, slow to process, slow to speak. It's kind of strange, but a good reprieve from the racing thoughts I've been plagued with for the past month, I guess.

Colombia was great. I went through several love-hate-love moments, but all in all it was a good trip and I learned a lot. Humor me, will you?

1. If I'm going to do this whole Save Syria thing then I had better get used to the less glamorous side of traveling. Like the lack of A/C, lack of communication, lack of hygiene etc, etc. It's not glamorous. I think I forgot about that. Duh Jenna. A refugee camp is probably the least glamorous place in the world. They probably will not have toilet paper. In fact, they probably will not have toilets. So get over it.

2. I love the people of the world! Especially fellow travelers. We met so many great people on this trip from so many places! Travelers are so cool! They have all the good qualities you want in a friend: patient, chill, low-maintenance, kind, understanding, adventurous, friendly, approachable, uninhibited. The list goes on. I need to make more traveler friends.

3. Locals are pretty great too. Sometimes, in really touristy areas, it can get annoying when they try to shove stuff in your face and make you buy their random merchandise. No I do not want a maraca! No I do not want a pair of fake Ray Bans! (Okay fine, I bought a pair of fake Ray Bans). No I do not want your bus tour package!

My tactic is to look them in the eye and treat them like people. Smile. Be genuine and kind. You'll be amazed at what happens. That vicious vendor facade fades away and you can see the humanity again. It's great.

4. I need to get around the weird mental blocks that I've constructed around certain things. Like jet skiing. This guy on the beach was pushing and pushing to sell us a ride on a jet-ski and I was like, "No no no no go away I have no desire to jet ski." But he told me he would just take me for a spin and we'd see how I felt. The spin worked (great selling strategy!). I went jet skiing! I drove the jet ski! I DROVE THE JET SKI FULL SPEED AHEAD TOWARD THE SUNSET ON THE SEAS OF COLOMBIA. Wow. It was a magical experience.

5. I get grumpy when it's late and I'm tired and I have to haul around a lot of stuff.

6. It's hard to keep up a scripture/prayer routine on vacation. Don't let Satan do that to you!

7. There are a lot of people in the world. I can hardly handle it.

Thoughts from Thursday (on a Tuesday): On Being Single

Okay, it's true. I have been known to occasionally flop on the couch, throw back my head, and whine, "I just want a boyfrieeeend."

But recently I've been thinking about my life as a single person, and you know what? I'd have to say that I'm pretty dang grateful that I'm not married (or even dating for that matter--gasp!). Because not only do I love my life, but I am, in fact, IN LOVE with my life.

Disclaimer: I already understand that marriage is important and necessary and wonderful, alright? So stop that.

But wow. If I had gotten married at 19, like the rest of Provo, I would have missed out on so much. I wouldn't have gotten to meet and hang out with SO MANY GOOD PEOPLE. I wouldn't get to go camping with 30 of my friends in the mountains on a whim. I wouldn't get to go to institute every Tuesday and church every Sunday and chat with basically everyone in the ward afterward. My contact list in my phone would be significantly shorter. My pictures on social media would be significantly less exciting. The number of places I've been would be smaller. And the neurons in my brain would be significantly less connected because I would have had significantly fewer stimulating and interesting conversations!

I am so grateful to be 22 and single. Because 22 is so young! And I get to spend these classic young adult years doing exactly what twenty-somethings should be doing: exploring, discovering, traveling, playing, growing, learning, right alongside my lovely contemporaries, whom I feel so blessed to know.

Every person has a different path to take in life. I know plenty of married people who say they're so glad they got married at x age, and they couldn't imagine anything better. That's okay. That's good. That's great. That's not for me. Let's still be friends.

Wait. Can you still have friends when you're married?? Hahaaaaa jk guys.

In a Rich Man's World

Today during my lunch break I had planned to call my mom, but my mom was at Costco and couldn't talk (surprise!), so I walked to Haagen Dazs, bought some ice cream, and sat down on a bench to think about my life. But really all I could think was,

"When did I become the person who spends $6.35 on two measly scoops of ice cream? I can't believe I just spent $6.35 on two scoops of ice cream. Who am I? I am ridiculous."

Seriously, living in Bethesda has done this to me. $15 is fine for dinner, $13 is fine for a movie, and apparently $6.35 is fine for two scoops of ice cream.

I am not rich! This is not okay! I have grad school to save for for crying out loud!

But don't worry. I felt so bad that, in order to compensate for my lack of self-discipline during lunch, instead of getting on the metro at the Bethesda stop to go home, I walked aaallll the way to Medical Center and saved 50 cents.

Crossing Paths

I am fascinated by the lives of my contemporaries. Being a twenty-something is hard, but if I've learned anything in the past five years, it's that we're all just doing the best we can. I meet person after person with story after story. I love the stories. We're all where we are because it's where we feel we are supposed to be. The Lord has placed each of us in a specific spot for a specific reason. I was led here, to Washington DC. By an incredible stream of miracles, I landed in this apartment with these three wonderful roommates. I randomly landed a job that didn't look very promising at the outset, but has turned out to be instrumental in shaping my entire career and future. I'm headed back to Utah next, to pursue that career, but who knows what will actually happen? I could just as easily pursue that career here, but something is calling me home. And I'm eager to find out why.

Ahh! I just love looking around and seeing how everyone's lives intersect. It's kind of beautiful. Who will I cross paths with next? What will I learn next? Who will I love next?

Converted

I've always been a pretty loyal PC person, but heark! Revolution is on the wind! And I am typing this to you from my brand new MACBOOK AIR.

I am in love. IN LOVE I TELL YOU!

Other things I'm in love with:

-Fridays off work
-Ben and Jerry's
-Rain, the smell of rain, the sound of rain, etc.
-Birdy's song called Best Shot. So cute.

Things I am not in love with:

-The fact that I left my memory card in the HP laptop I returned last week. I am an idiot. Is this post looking a little sparse to you? WELL IT'S BECAUSE ALL MY PICTURES ARE ON THAT MEMORY CARD AND NOWHERE ELSE!!!!
-Studying for the GRE. I have no memory of algebra. NO MEMORY!
-My phone deciding to boycott receiving messages
-My phone in general

That's all for now. Let's all pray I get my memory card back. Because those pictures are just too good to be exiled to oblivion.

Life Lately

I've been without a functional laptop for a little while now, hence the blogging hiatus. But also, my life is full of adventure these days, and who wants to stare at a screen after 8 hours of staring at a screen?? Not I. So I've been running and biking and walking and exploring this DMV (that's DC, Maryland, Virginia, for you newbs) place to my heart's content. And oh, my heart is so content.

This is the Chinese Embassy, I do believe. 

The Bahrainian life. 

My name means "heaven" in Arabic!

Azaleas are my new favorite flower. I'm naming my kid after them. 

Some of the best. 

West Virginia

I don't love Philadelphia, but I definitely like it. 

Okay I guess I love it. 

Don't mind the garbage bags in the corner--these are the Rocky steps!

When I Think

When I think about heaven, I think about walking in a white dress over a yellow hill beneath a gray sky. There's a big, leafy tree to my left. Maybe a willow or an oak or an elm. I think of space that goes on forever and quiet that can never be disrupted. I am by myself. And I am at peace. I hope that heaven is big enough for me to be alone in a sea of a trillion other spirits. I think I will need to be alone. To think.

When I think about raising children, I think about taking them to the creek, zipped in fleece jackets and laced in colorful tennis shoes, and letting them explore the muddy banks. I think about telling them to "be still and listen." I think about them holding up cupped hands and saying to me, "Mom, look at this frog I found!" I think about exploring not cleaning, explaining not yelling, laughing not crying. I think about waking up with excitement to show them the world, not dread over making breakfast.

When I think about my career, I think about listening. I think about sharing tears of joy and sorrow, of taking to heart what may have otherwise been forgotten. I think about writing and inspiring and loving. I think about utilizing my education; I think about being well-used. I think about coming home to my husband and children and telling them what I learned at work today. Better yet, I think about taking my children along to work with me.

When I think about marriage, I think about laughter. I think about running through the rain and taking long drives to nowhere and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I think about talking and I think about sitting in silence. I think about a strong, mutual respect and understanding. I think about equality. I think about underlining a passage in a book, rolling over in bed, and saying, "Listen to this."

When I think about God I think about sorrow. I think, "I'm sorry God, that it's your job to watch all these horrible things and love all these horrible people." I think, "I do not understand. I hope you know what you're doing." But I also think about light and about love and about faith. I think of a pure, unadulterated understanding of my soul. I think of the past and the present and the future and then I think, "Everything is going to be okay.

In fact, everything is going to be wonderful."

To Remember

Lately I've been thinking a lot about God. Things for me have been unsteady for a good long while-- 5 months, to be exact. But then the year turned and I resolved to infuse my own faith and trust into God's promise that if I put him first, all else would fall into place and everything would work together for my good.

My, have things worked together for my good. I have a plan again. A fragile one, but a plan all the same. I have hope for the future. I have direction. I have a little spark in my soul.

But still, it's easy to forget God. It's easy to forget that the Supreme Creator of the Universe even exists. It takes willful effort, to remember. I have to look for him myself--in the pattern in the clouds, the faces of the people, the sunlight through the window, the silence before sleep.
Yesterday, on our drive home at dusk, there was a sparrow-shaped cloud on the horizon--just for me, Little Bird. This morning a friendly man in a crowded metro car pulled me inside right as the doors were closing. I thanked him as I got off, and he nodded with a small smirk of his own.

Yes, God is still here, even in this land of hurried commuters and dissatisfied businesspeople and aspiring entrepreneurs. It seems that so few remember him, and it breaks my heart because they're missing what matters. I wish the world wasn't so overwhelming. I wish we would all just be quiet and still for a second. A second to see God.

I have this thing for dead trees.

I love trees in the winter. Have you ever noticed the beauty of bare branches against a blue sky? Or even better--against a pink or orange or purple sky? It's one of the most breathtaking things, I'm telling you. Leaves are nice too, of course. But you can't see the sky through the leaves. You can't see anything through the leaves, really. In some ways, I think that leaves maybe even mask the true beauty of a tree. Yikes. Is that blasphemy? Stay with me here... A bare tree is exposed and vulnerable. It is as it is. There is no facade.

In the darkest and coldest and bleakest months, stripped of cloth and color and comfort, that bare tree, bark and branches, still stands. It still stands. It stands noble and strong, uncovered and unconquerable. Beautiful. A different kind of beauty, yes, but beauty all the same.