My momma would be so proud.

Still, the institute has embedded within my day a time to write and I’m enjoying the journaling, editing, revising nerdiness.  It’s fun to see my own handwriting again in my own notebook with scribbles and scratches polluting the pages.  It’s all part of the process.

Or so they tell me.

Today we were given a picture.  We studied it.  We asked ourselves questions.  We wondered.

“What if he found her on purpose?”

“I wonder what made those ripples in the water.”

“What if he’s lost?”

“I wonder…”  “What if?”

And then, we wrote.

I’ve learned that chocolate milk chases nightmares away and that time doesn’t heal all hurts it just dulls them some.  I’ve learned that things never happen like you plan them, but the way they turn out is inevitably better anyway.  I’ve learned that hugs transcend language barriers, love crosses borders and spring always comes even if the colors are different when you live near the Equator.

I’ve learned to carry duct tape in my backpack, four quarters in my pocket, and Jesus in my heart.  I’ve learned that cold showers can be good things and that it’s okay to put off a to-do list until tomorrow.  I’ve learned that children are resilient and that adults hold grudges and that forgiveness should be free.

I’ve learned that I sleep better under one of Mamaw’s quilts and that people are life’s richest treasures.  Sunrises are meant to be seen and sunsets should steal your breath.  Exercise doesn’t give you the right to clean out your refrigerator, but eating your weight in chocolate is okay sometimes.  I’ve learned that time is precious and that it is fleeting.

I’ve learned that my future isn’t dictated by my past and that the greatest freedom to be found is in knowing who you are.  I’ve learned that some roads are curvy and mountainous and others are straight and sure for miles upon miles and that both of those roads lead to somewhere and going somewhere is always better than going nowhere.

I’ve learned that it’s okay to be imperfect, but not to be insecure.  I’ve learned that guarding your heart keeps you from loving completely and being loved and that it’s okay to shed tears for people that you’ve never met.  I’ve learned that I can’t change the world by myself, but that I can make a difference.  I’ve learned that life is short and good and that there’s nothing I enjoy more than living it.

The valley is bathed in yellow morning light.

Snowy peaks shimmer like Africa’s rarest gems.

A coffee scented breeze plays in my tangled hair.

And in the distance there is a picture of a dream.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to get started writing.  My brain goes all fuzzy and fills up with nonsense and, for the life of me, I can’t get anything logical down on paper.

I could stress out, I guess, or have an emotional breakdown, but I’ve already had one of those today and two squalling fits in a single Tuesday seems a bit like overkill.  So, I just scribble out nothings hoping to uncover a something inspiring eventually.

Some days I’m lucky and I find a beauty like this one and other days I find a pile of worms or worse.  But it doesn’t really matter because worms are treasures, too, aren’t they?

They dig and creep and bury themselves beneath the earth wriggling all the while, and there in their tunnels, twists, and turns the soil is richer than when they came.

There is a little girl

who lives among the hills.

She runs and plays beneath the sun

and in the poppy fields.

Her feet are bare and brown.

Her hair is the finest gold.

She talks to the sky and laughs at the rain

and looks for hands to hold.

She dances with the dandelions.

Dew drops are in her eyes.

And when she grows weary late in the day,

 her daddy sings her lullabies.

*picture from trudette’s etsy shop.

A castle stood among the rocks

where waves came crashing round

and on her walls sat knights with swords

and at her gates were guards.

I stood a bit beneath the sun

and watched their chainmail shine

then carefully approached the bridge

and asked to go inside.

The guard bowed low and winked at me

then I heard a creaking sound.

And in that moment my heart opened up

and the sky began to sing!

A symphony of harps and horns

the presence of a King!

I threw my face upon the bridge

to hide my fear and shame.

But his laugh filled the day like clanging bells

and then he called my name!

I timidly approached him.

He wrapped me in his arms.

His chest was as big as nighttime

and his breath smelled like the sea.

“Welcome to your Kindgom, child!

The Land of Meant to Be!”

picture by new friends Cheryl and Emerson at Uncommon Promise.

So at last the young girl shed tears and said goodbyes and left the comfort of the cabin and her home.  She carried her dreams and her insecurities in two suitcases as she braved the wide, wide world alone.  The young one saw explosions of color in foreign sunsets and heard symphonies in the night and she was glad that she was gone.

But every once and again, she longed for the smell of those log walls in the small town that she had left behind.  And she thought of the way that the sky opened up and shone its light on a green tin roof in the first days of fall.

And the young girl promised that if she ever made it home again she would live there happily ever after.