returning to the world
of pages
is exhilarating.
a dream
seems
to reawaken,
colors reawakening in a palette
of vibrant, lively hues.
I almost
forgot
what it was like
to be young and in love
with everything,
flipping pages
faster than
the minutes could go by.
oh,
to think,
that the summer days,
used to pass exactly like this:
lemonade and three hundred pages
in the warmth of the summer sun

so in love with
Beauty,
I'm investing everything in its pursuit,
all the days of my life.
join me?

fairy lights and sacred art,
sunlight flickering through the blinds,
discussions of purpose, identity, and evangelization
over a cup of steaming peppermint tea,
alongside a red pen and a stack of papers.
Tuesday afternoons- the very best day of the week,
anticipated with abundant, life-giving joy.
simply the best!!!
the sacredest of spaces!!!
where the feminine genius is not a far-off
nebulous idea,
swirling around in the ether,
but, rather, a person: me.
the foundations of a calling
started here.
How did I get so lucky to be formed in such a place?!?

Home.
Where the family is,
Where the movies are marathoned,
Where the Saturday night spaghetti dinners are rejoiced in,
Where the laughter spills over in bubbly waves, effortlessly again and again.
But also- elsewhere.
In lunch periods spent in Founders Hall, talking about everything and simultaneously nothing,
In drives down Seventh to the beloved Starbucks instead of the pages of homework due at 11:59 (#irresponsibility),
In discussions of purpose, identity and evangelization over AJs sweet tea, sitting in the shade of green umbrellas,
In late night sleepover chats, with messy buns and sweatshirts plastered with our high school mascots, bright eyes dreaming up futures teeming with possibility.
Even when we leave,
Our hearts remain in the Arizona desert.
This is the ode to a home so beautiful,
So tender,
So sweet,
So sacred-
We’ll be back eventually.

Here,
A space of healing,
Drawing close to expose the tender wounds,
In the upper room,
That haven’t seen the light in years.
The Father gently comes near,
Drawing into sacred, quiet embrace,
A dance so soft,
Its melodies rising and falling in the pattern of a heartbeat.
Breathing life into corners of shame,
Reevaluating,
Retelling old stories.
Is this what hope is like?!
Thanks, Lord, for this gift.