Film Friday #2

This photo was taken of my parents in Michigan, probably around 1994, since it looks like my mom's preggo with my baby sister. I love this photo because it speaks to the very playful nature of my parents. (They actually bought a two-seated bike for the family six or seven years ago!)

On a similar note, today God is teaching me all about selflessness. I'm still reading Passion and Purity by Elisabeth Elliot, and He is shaping and refining me through it. I think about the future a lot: marriage and who I'm going to marry, but the Lord is actually preparing me for my husband right now. And there is no room for selfishness in marriage! I'm grateful that God cares about me and wants to continually change my heart. And I'm also grateful for crazy parents that wear sweaters and ride around on bicycles built for two.

May Day

I love mornings where the first thing I do is talk to God. This morning was one of those. Sitting in bed under an impossibly plush pile of quilts and committing my day to Him, then lazily lolling down the stairs to fix myself a bowl of oats cereal. I love how the morning is so natural; with hair un-brushed and a bare face, I sat in bed and ate my cereal, praying and reading Jeremiah 4.  It hasn't been easy to read my Bible lately. In fact, it's been a struggle. But when I do come to the true Word of Life, my heart is filled with joy. It is my prayer that I would always have joy in my relationship with Jesus.

Today is also the first day of May, which means I have roughly a month left before I leave to work at my favorite youth camp this summer. Let this month, this May, be one of refinement and sanctification. And most of all, mornings filled with joy.

From November to May, It Was a Melody

Novel, I haven't been writing you. Not for lack of desire; I have thought of you every day since the last time I spit forth the words from my soul, poured life into you. I guess I was just waiting for a day like today, a day where the rain drops down at diagonal angles from the sky like a cleansing; a day where I am wearing an old plaid shirt that somebody else wore out, the shirt I got from a church sale. I guess I was waiting for just the right rain to listen to Max Richter's "November", which is slowly becoming the soundtrack to this novel, and is also the time of year in which I began this seventh-odd draft.

Oh, I haven't forgotten you, friend.
No; I am coming for you, novel.
May is your month.