Coffee Date |Merry Christmas|


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  • the basics.

If we were on a coffee date, we’d talk life. It’s a beautiful Decembered Monday and life is full, but complicated. We’d talk adult Christmases–how it’s near-to-impossible to feel the same way you felt as a kid. I’d tell you Christmas is my favorite holiday–I’d ask you what you’re doing, I’d wish you Merry Christmas. And we’d talk about my new car. We’d talk about living in the business world. We’d talk about nostalgia. We’d talk essential oils and I’d tell you about my business, tribe and essential. We’d talk about the new vision I have for my poetry and everything we want to get done in 2017. We’d talk love life and the holiday season. We’d talk about cracker candy. I’d send you the recipe. We’d talk work and I’d tell you how exasperating it is to try being nice, but being in charge at the same time. We would talk trying to diet, but also loving comfort food during this Christmas season.

WE WOULD TALK ALL THE STRUGGLES.

  • Project Christmas Card.

If we were on a coffee date, I’d slip you a Christmas card. No doubt in my mind, if we had a conversation today, you would be getting a card. Because I have this new love of Christmas this year–a tamer, quieter sort of love that isn’t wrapped up in materialism or flashy lights, but in smaller acts of love and giving. I’d tell you about our tree that barely reaches 4’11” and has no colored lights on it at all (one of my much-clung to traditions). I’d tell you that I named him Charlie and I’d tell you how much this little tree grabbed onto my heart that day in the tree lot because something told me that no one else would want it. And I don’t know how…but that little tree had so much light to give to this world and it needed a chance. (Needless to say…Charlie sits very proudly in the corner of our living room.) Then I’d tell you why I started Project Christmas Card this year–how something just tugged at me to send as many people as possible a Christmas card.

  • chasing.

If we were on a coffee date, I’d tell you about the dreams that have been on my mind. But two things you should know before I tell you this story: 1.) I work as a manager. 2.) I’m working on a book called Chasing Dandelions. So…I had this dream a couple weeks ago, Coffee Date. An old crush was standing behind the counter at my work like he was waiting on me. I stared at him and he said something to the effect of, “Hey, you got these kids whipped into shape?” “Most days,” I smiled, noting the sudden gray in his beard. “Well, if you need me to get them into shape let me know.” And then I’m standing in a field and a giant dandelion flies at me, stopping just before my face, and then it exploded into thousands of dandelion seeds. I guess I don’t know what either of those mean, or if they mean anything at all, but it did solidify that what I’m working on is important. And maybe it will be important to a million people, or maybe it will be important to 5 people. Maybe it will only be important to me…but it still has value. And, Coffee Date, that eased my mind.

  • hawaiian.

If we were on a coffee date, we’d hop in a car and drive. Drive down those backroads I’m so in love with until we get to the coffee shop I’ve been curious about for a long time. I’d give the Hawaiian Salted Caramel latte a shot, especially since I haven’t been doing too hot on the old diet lately. And the word hawaiian is music to my ears during all things winter.

  • winter.

If we were on a coffee date, you’d probably ask me how my Christmas shopping is going–if I have any presents, how Project Christmas Card is going. And I’d say I’ve got nada, zip, zilch on the gift end, but I wish so much that I could get tickets to the Beach Boys concert for the fam bam. Then we’d talk seasonal depression and I’d tell you how I’m trying to infuse as much spring as I can into my world before the darker, colder days hit. That I’m really trying to cling to hope this winter.

  • voskamp.

If we were on a coffee date, I’d share this post with you. Because it broke down my walls a little bit with God. Ann Voskamp is the realest.

  • the difference, hillary.

Coffee Date? A teenager asked me for advice last night. At first I thought she was joking…but she was serious. Me? And I know, Coffee Date, that it seems simple…but to me, it isn’t. In a sense…I’m still so used to feeling like what I have to say doesn’t really count that…it’s hard to understand that I actually do have a seat at the King’s table. What I say does make a difference…and when I leave spots, it does make a difference. And this would segue into me making absolutely certain that you know what I haven’t known for so long: you matter, Coffee Date. You have a fingerprint unique to this world and when you leave, you leave a space. You’re not here to take up space, but to make something good of the spaces you inhabit. Think about that.

  • little bugs.

I’ve been thinking about this scene while writing this post. “Take care of everyone smaller than you.” These words really weigh on me because I’ve been the littlest of bugs, Coffee Date. And not one person saw me. But I’m realizing, in my adulthood, that I went through everything I did because God knew that really…I was a seed. And He knew that someday I’d grow. So He needed to plant me in a spot where I could do the most good–where I could take care of the little bugs, if you will. And wherever you’re at, Coffee Date, I hope you know that whatever pain you’ve been through or are going through…it means something. It’s paving the way for opportunities and those opportunities may not be about you, but about the little bugs. We have to take care of the little bugs.

Peter Banning: Now I want you to take care of everything that’s smaller than you.
Thud Butt: Okay.
Too Small: Then who do I look after?
Peter Banning: Neverbugs – little ones.

-Hook

  • “but she found herself and, somehow, that was everything.”Finally, if we were on a coffee date…I’d show you my latest playlist. One I listened to while writing this, one I’ve been listening to in the car, one I’ve been listening to while laying in bed at night, one has shown me what love can look like, and one has sparked my creative process.

All my love, Coffee Dates ❤

 

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The One After The Coffee Date.


“Little One? You weren’t abandoned in this place to be forgotten — you were placed in this place to be found.That place that may feel like abandonment —- is placement. And what may have feel like being thrown away — is about being placed because a way is coming always.” -Ann Voskamp

Two Saturdays ago, I’d just dyed my hair because it was something to do. I climbed into my car and drove down all the old roads, past a home we were under the impression would someday be ours. It was the only hope we had. I’d go into detail, but you’d think I’m insane. And so, I drove by that house…only to see a sign that said: Under contract. That’s it. All it took to propel me into a rage of depression and abandonment, cursing God because I knew how much it meant to my dad. “Why do you do this to him, God? What did he ever do but try to live in a world that doesn’t even want him? What did he ever do but try to have a friend? Pay his bills? Be loved? And you take it all away. Can’t even do one simple thing to make the last seasons of his life happy and fulfilling.” I was angry.

I did what I always do when I’m angry, sad, too much on my mind, etc: I took a drive. Something about winding roads lined with trees and rolling hills breathes life back into me. And so I loaded my cat, Schmidt, into my old ’99 and took off. I was just passing an old road where someone I used to have a crush on used to live and it only took 1/2 mile to hit me: I’m driving down a road alone–like, really alone–with bright, red lipstick and red hair and A CAT and…there’s not one thing about me that’s attractive. Too different, too quirky, too awkward, too unseen. Or at least that’s what the lies say, what the lies want me to believe about myself.

Too different, too quirky, too awkward, too unseen. Or at least that’s what the lies say, what the lies want me to believe about myself.

And in that moment, it occurred to me that if I were to ever see the boy who used to live at the end of the road…he’d look at me like I was the strangest person on the planet. And it seemed too much to bear, in that moment, because…7 years ago, he was supposed to see me. Someone was supposed to see me by now. All I’m ever seen as is odd or awkward or unusual or a pushover and sometimes, reader, it’s tough.

So I wrote about it. My last blog post was written out of bitterness, anger, confusion, and hurt and somehow, I’m not sorry. Because if that post resonates with at least one person, it’s worth the vulnerability. I posted it, however, not knowing how many people would reach out or message the post to a friend, asking them to pray for me. It wasn’t what I anticipated at all.

So, reader. Here’s where I’m at in 4 bullet points (for your convenience 😉

-God is still on the sidelines because I have realized that I truly don’t know how to let Him in.

-I still hear Him. And I know He wants me to let Him in. I know it. And I know I’m not forgotten, even if it still stings.

-I now recognize the importance of dealing with issues, rather than bottling them up. They will end up on the internet, if you’re anything like me. EMOTIVE ELLA.

-Free will is a thing. I am a human being. And I get to choose to walk in darkness or in light. I get to choose that. It’s a gift, but it’s sticky and messy and confusing. But still a gift. And salvation doesn’t look like God chasing me down and loudly proclaiming that I’m going the wrong way. Salvation is a quiet thing and for so long I’ve believed it needs to be loud and bold for it to be relevant.

Reader, there’s not always a 1-2 step process. Life doesn’t always reflect the cause-effect model and that’s okay. We’re all human and we all have things about our pasts that will always sting a little. But don’t stay in the hurt. Make room to let new things in. If it hurts, pay attention to it.  Tell someone, do something. Heck, post it on the internet.

But no matter what–no matter where you’re at, you’re never alone and this is never the end.