All or nothing now

Sweet wild road ahead
Sweet wild road ahead
If I lied and said that all was well
I might as well be dead

-The Wailin’ Jennys

I’ve never cried so hard as I did the Thursday after I said yes.

I understand now that saying yes to life together, to sweet love, to forever love, to no-one-but-you love
is also
saying yes to life always together, to hard times, to hanging-on love, to only-you-can-ever-hurt-me-like-that love.

Somewhere else in this big world, another woman is sitting at her kitchen table with a wine glass full of water because she feels slightly guilty for the half bottle of Pinot Grigio that she drank last night. She’s also attempting to read her Torts assignment but instead she follows her thoughts into the nebulous future. Maybe she’s also in love with “the one,” who colors her life with his brown-green eyes and fills up space she didn’t know existed with his big shoulders and musician’s hands.

She’s probably also wishing that she could just pour out all the tears he’s ever made her cry onto his hurts and ragged edges to help them heal.  What she always wanted and what she thought she always wanted might not be the same. The equation is hard to solve. My faraway twin is probably feeling faintly dramatic as well, because it’s easy to feel ridiculous on this side of the cycle but reasonable to feel both ferocious and wistful on the dark side. She probably also chooses reality over a princess fairy tale, but bruises over the decision, and her eyes are bright with unexpected tears at inconvenient times when she is reminded of it.

I wonder if she ever finished that Torts assignment after all. I don’t know what she does in the end.

All I know is that I choose him.

At the end of the day, I would rather come home to my love than to an empty princess fantasy or to anyone else.

I choose to believe that the ragged edges and the dark places and the wounds aren’t indelible and that both of us can leave our baggage at the foot of the cross forever. I choose to believe that Light and Love are irresistible. I choose a life of deep breaths, real smiles, confident strides, clear eyes, fearless kissing, loving honesty, and abiding trust … and I embrace all of the work and tears this life requires.

I choose to run straight for an abundant life because Jesus already broke himself open for me to have it, and He knows the “only-you-can-ever-hurt-me-like-that” kind of love in ways that I never will.

I choose reality and my artist-lumberjack best friend and the “sweet wild road” with him. It’s the adventure I’ve always wanted. I still have torts reading and I still have bruises but this is what I want.

Looking ahead but just a little scared
To keep all eyes on the road…

Can it be real
Will it be some good thing
Weathering the fortunes
What those stars are gonna bring
Will it stay true
Will we both see the whole thing true
You say come on baby let’s go ahead and live




“….and the only thing common to all of this is that I feel sorrow so deep, it must be love…”
Tinkers, by Paul Harding

I am thankful that joy and restlessness are both shades of the same color that God painted my soul.

Wake up ablaze, fall asleep quiet, because passion and silence are both his brushstrokes.

Love presses when I grow silent, sorrow whispers at my edges. My soul is full and splashes of color overflow sometimes, leaving drops of peace and memory and longing, but I will not forget the times when I could not see the color save for a few pale stains. And I have to laugh because it’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?

whatever a sun will always sing is you

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

e.e. cummings

There’s a possibility…

Tell me when you hear my heart stop
you’re the only one who knows
-Lykke Li

The sun sets through the curtains and the shadows fall across the dishes in my sink and the cool Pacific breeze blows through the quiet. I find myself distracted by anything –the soreness in my biceps, the distant freeway, the curls blowing into my eyes, the eleven new books in my room, my chipping red toenail polish– that I can find to bolster my self-constructed door on the lingering doubts, rootless worry, and pending decisions collecting in the back of my mind.

Content with life yet constantly grinding at a nameless bit between my teeth: this inexorable duo of silence & solitude steps into the tension between the smile and the anticipation and ignites it all.  The fragile wall restraining my expectancy, half-concealed dreams, and wry acknowledgment of future unpredictability wavers at the heat.

Someday I will look back on not knowing but I hope that I always remember what it feels like.

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