tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53209421972282558072024-03-17T23:03:37.645-04:00Totally GracedGrace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.comBlogger398125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-57405639011557671382023-01-03T15:50:00.006-05:002023-02-03T16:23:04.366-05:00wishing you...pink skies?<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG366mIqre-cOyfAvYcsTEcrGacFrDOEtu8pHG4sZhxA-eISJYOihjUCVgKeD7w0Dj-0OXi21r_xFYYGT6dBKDvV-lckDWsgXSDMBLayKUL_nkuWNJAWgu8QVjmPh3YmwfaZhomltBlNekBJIZVdY1zGYabesk3WCeF_scR5Usw2Zv7Z9HTUM7tYbN/s4032/IMG_0980.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG366mIqre-cOyfAvYcsTEcrGacFrDOEtu8pHG4sZhxA-eISJYOihjUCVgKeD7w0Dj-0OXi21r_xFYYGT6dBKDvV-lckDWsgXSDMBLayKUL_nkuWNJAWgu8QVjmPh3YmwfaZhomltBlNekBJIZVdY1zGYabesk3WCeF_scR5Usw2Zv7Z9HTUM7tYbN/s16000/IMG_0980.jpg" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Well, hello there, 2023. </i></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The start of a new year always makes me reflective – I know, you never would have guessed. I spend days beforehand mulling over all that the past twelve months have held, wondering what the next twelve have in store, and filling up arguably too many pages in my journal. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When Saturday rolled around and we found ourselves in the final hours of 2022, I knew there was only one thing to do that would feel like the proper sendoff for a year that I couldn’t quite define. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And so, I went on a walk. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think that I spent more time walking in 2022 than I have in past years combined. I’d never really had the time or space to make it a regular part of my routine before, but suddenly it was my sanity point. Last January marked quite possibly the worst my anxiety had ever been, and walking became a catharsis I didn’t know I needed. I’d pray, or talk to friends, or walk over to a nearby lake to read for a little while. It was such a point of healing for me. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It only felt fitting to end the year in the way that had most grounded me. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun warm on my face despite the crisp air. I set out, my phone silenced, to say goodbye to one of the weirdest years of my life in the best way I knew how. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It had rained earlier in the day, and the world felt fresh, new. Like it was preparing for midnight’s strike right along with me. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I bumped into my mom and sister at the halfway point of the walk, and we stopped to talk for a minute. “Remember when we went on a walk last year a few days before New Year’s and the sky was so pink?” I asked my mom. “I wish that it was like that again today.” There were streaks of gold along the horizon, but it didn’t look to be a sunset night – which was fine. The blue had been magical enough on its own.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We parted ways, and they kept walking while I hung back by the water for a little while. It was getting colder, but I couldn’t bring myself to mind. A piece of me just didn’t want to leave, as if staying by the lakeside would keep me in 2022, as if I could stave off the new year by lingering in the healing the old one had brought. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, I set off again through the old wooded path back home. It’s winding and steep, and always feels a little bit like stepping into another world.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I emerged from the trees and looked up, the sky was streaked with pink. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I actually froze in my tracks. <i>No way.</i></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But there it was – not identical to last year’s, but beautiful all on its own, feathery and light and painted like brushstrokes between the clouds.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I stood at the trailhead, my eyes locked on the sky, wishing that my phone could capture the sight as beautifully as it truly was. Deciding that maybe I didn’t mind it being just for me. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Because that really was how it felt – like it had been put there just for me. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I’ve been taking the time to look back over all that 2022 held, I keep coming back to a single word over and over again – grace. In so many ways, 2022 was my grace year. It was a year I stepped into completely blind and more than a little terrified, and here at its end, I can’t help but marvel at all of the ways grace was laced into my story. The things I never expected, the people I got to have by my side, the healing I didn’t know could come. Grace upon grace upon grace, a God more gracious than I could fathom. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And after this year of absolutely unwarranted grace, a moment with Jesus and a freshly painted sky felt like the sweetest conclusion to it all. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t know what 2023 will hold. But I know the One who sustains me, and I know that I’ll be carried through. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That’s enough. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As we step into the new year, I want to leave you with these words by Neil Gaiman – a wish for your year. I hope it’s a beautiful one, friends. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></p><div style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">“I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you’ll dream dangerously and outrageously, that you’ll make something that didn’t exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked, and that you will have people to love and like in return. And, most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in this world right now), that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind.”</span></i></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-21716522763972829592022-11-15T15:48:00.002-05:002023-04-06T14:01:48.652-04:00waiting joyfully<p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1ywrYSxZ0AGZgrFuxtnE_DI95iqUdoKKJP6WFDdPmDjqRZR6pQmE233Q1cbLHQJfiBar09TLAEgUgrWI_-aW_V_WYFLWwTvP4H4CKo0rMwGvBptboICJSbud6PxIc5ewysoMVrxaQINlY7TFmDj6KhZngDg_IZ6flh0fr8T1qW6e_8a7mNPs_UGN/s1116/68061113-424B-4A29-AEC2-0F379AB3700C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1116" data-original-width="770" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1ywrYSxZ0AGZgrFuxtnE_DI95iqUdoKKJP6WFDdPmDjqRZR6pQmE233Q1cbLHQJfiBar09TLAEgUgrWI_-aW_V_WYFLWwTvP4H4CKo0rMwGvBptboICJSbud6PxIc5ewysoMVrxaQINlY7TFmDj6KhZngDg_IZ6flh0fr8T1qW6e_8a7mNPs_UGN/s16000/68061113-424B-4A29-AEC2-0F379AB3700C.jpg" /></a></div><br />It’s six pm, and the world is dark.<br /><br />It’s only a few days after Daylight Savings as I’m writing this, a blanket wrapped around me as I sit at my desk, unprepared for the chill the evening would bring. I’m still not used to how quickly the light dissipates now, how I blink and it’s slipped away for the day.<br /><br />I dread this time of year nearly as soon as the first day of summer hits—as soon as I know that the light will begin fading. It will be June, and I’ll be watching the sunset from the hood of my car at eight pm and I’ll be thinking, I never want to lose this.<br /><br />I always do eventually; that’s the nature of time. Still, it always catches me off guard, wishing for the light to come back.<br /><br />In years past, the arrival of November has meant the near-implosion of my world, a season of intense insanity. This year is different, my life more still in nearly every way, and I’ve found myself thinking about how to slip into the season with grace instead of barreling through as I normally have to.<br /><br />We live in a culture that likes to move at warp speed. We wear busyness as a badge of honor, exhaustion the mark of a life of worth. And yet, in many ways, the change of season acts as a direct contradiction to those tendencies. <i>Slow down</i>, it says.<i> It’s not light out anymore. Your work is done for the day.<br /></i><br />In Danish culture, the concept of<i> hygge</i> describes a lifestyle based in coziness and comfort. It centers around warmth, rest, and gratitude, and is a cherished part of life for the Danes. It’s not fancy or elaborate, but it’s about lingering in simple joys and finding contentment in the slow moments of the everyday—and allowing space for that slowness.<br /><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p>As we step into the darker days of late autumn and face the fast-approaching winter, it’s the perfect time to embrace a bit more of the hygge lifestyle. To slow down. To carve out space for slow evenings with warm food and good books. To acknowledge that there’s value in taking time to breathe and to rest with the sun.<br /><br />Hygge, some people say, is one of the greatest tools to counteracting the heaviness that comes with the winter darkness. It’s not a miracle cure—therapy and medication are still necessary lifelines that can’t be replaced overnight. But it’s been found to greatly alleviate the sadness and anxiety that can come with the winter months.<br /><br />It’s about powering down and plugging into the life in front of you—and embracing the ways in which that life can become a little softer and a little kinder.<br /><br />For me this fall, that’s looked like powering down from work as early in the evening as I can, and leaving my laptop on my desk, out of reach—not a novel concept, but a definite jump from the girl who’s spent most of her life bringing her laptop to bed with her into the wee hours of the morning. It’s looked like turning the twinkle lights on more often, and knitting and doing macrame while watching a comfort show with my sisters.<br /><br />It's meant looking at the life I’m currently living, and finding ways to build new routines into it that are steadier and better. It’s been years since I’ve had any sort of regular nighttime routine, but I’ve been making a point to curl up with a blanket before I go to bed and take the time to go through my planner for the next day, to journal, and to read a few chapters of a novel. Recently, I made a list of all the cozy books I want to take the time to reread over the winter months instead of only trying to barrel through my ever-growing TBR. I’m going to start by jumping into <i>Pride and Prejudice</i>—it really does feel like coming home.<br /><br />There’s an art to it, really, the act of slowing down. It takes a level of intention and mindfulness that we don’t always gravitate towards. But the rewards are so, so rich.<br /><br />It reminds me of the words of one of my favorite creatives, Jenna O’Brien, who owns the cutest loose leaf tea business. She celebrated her business’s one year anniversary back in September, and took the time in her newsletter to share how tea had affected her life over the past few years. “Tea reminds me to slow down,” she wrote first and foremost. “It always takes 5 minutes to brew – and so it’s created a practice of waiting joyfully.”<br /><br />Perhaps, at its core, that’s what hygge is really about—knowing that brighter days will come again, and learning how to wait joyfully until they do.Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-59941939862538275172022-07-26T15:37:00.044-04:002023-02-03T16:34:52.976-05:00the beautiful impossible<p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF2iLu14RfCZYRZ0Z3zHvCwDxAWWBq5TiWT5q0HsEWmIFBZVN8gylxNCYEmuPxB7ZrnW3ExMXxJIqyZZbTiJC72O3PeQCiWP7OqShvewkgQBBs-d0lTj2vGbxHo2olKAI_pt3OrcB6tePoRv_LVUuRHlPUkhQFzDPVVUdazPvGLRfhyEUctJpNmyCz/s4032/IMG_6190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF2iLu14RfCZYRZ0Z3zHvCwDxAWWBq5TiWT5q0HsEWmIFBZVN8gylxNCYEmuPxB7ZrnW3ExMXxJIqyZZbTiJC72O3PeQCiWP7OqShvewkgQBBs-d0lTj2vGbxHo2olKAI_pt3OrcB6tePoRv_LVUuRHlPUkhQFzDPVVUdazPvGLRfhyEUctJpNmyCz/w480-h640/IMG_6190.JPG" width="480" /></a></div></div><br />July is rapidly spinning towards its close, and I find myself sitting by the window, letting the sunshine and the sounds of the late summer morning wash over me. It's quiet here, my little neighborhood, the silence only broken by the rumble of a passing delivery truck or the laughter of the little boys next door bursting outside to play for just a few more minutes. The crape myrtle waves in the breeze outside my window, and when I look down at my keyboard, tiny pieces of glitter dance in the light, still clinging on from the best birthday surprise. Today is a breath of quiet after the craziest, most wonderful week, and I'm letting myself sit in it, tired in the way that only comes from days you know you'll remember.<br /><br />When I graduated at the end of 2021 and stepped into the new year, I found myself overwhelmed with the prospect of how isolating post-grad life would be. It was the coldest, dreariest time of year, I was working remotely, and it felt as though everyone's lives were spinning on but mine. It was stagnant and strange, and I remember thinking that there was no way anything would be shifting anytime soon.<div><br />I don't think I would have believed it if someone told me then about the ways the next seven months would go - the old friends who would fall back in rhythm, the new humans I never saw coming, the way paths would cross for people I've known through this space for years and years to finally become in-person friends, too. It's been weird and baffling and I'm so grateful for it, so grateful for how wrong I was. <br /><br />I remember <a href="https://mailchi.mp/5a69f2319e92/105-where-everybody-knows-your-name">writing a Tuesday Letter</a> a little over a year ago about community, one of my favorite letters from last summer. I wrote about the fact that we're hardwired for connection, and about the fact that God isn't going to intend something for us without also providing. My doubt is so quick to jump in there, to jump to a mindset of scarcity, and yet over and over again, He reminds me of the lack of truth in that, in ways I never see coming.<br /><br />This past Sunday, through the wildest chain of events, I got to hug the first three friends I ever made through the blogosphere - friends who've been one of the dearest parts of my world for the past seven years. We met as fifteen-year-old bloggers, throwing words out into the void, until one day someone was on the other side of the screen. I remember the summer we all met so distinctly - lying sprawled across the living room floor, afternoon sun streaming through the blinds as I messaged these girls that lived states and states away, daydreaming of the brunches and sleepovers and adventures we would have one day. We were determined, we said, but we were fifteen, and our worlds didn't extend within each other's grasp. <br /><br /><i>One day</i>, we agreed. <i>One day, it'll happen.</i><br /><br />There were a thousand misses over the years - close calls that didn't quite work, layovers that were just a bit too far out of reach, trips and hopes and one wildly wistful New York internship that just never came to be.<br /><br />So when Rachel texted us in November that she would be flying to the East Coast in July, I didn't let myself hold on too tightly.<br /><br />It was eight months away, after all, and all of our lives felt a little up in the air. Who knew what the next eight months would bring? We'd been living in an era of shutdowns and shifted plans, and it was all-too-likely that this could be yet another round. <br /><br />And then, a few months later, she bought the tickets. <br /><br />"I have the morning free!" she texted us. "If anyone wants to meet for coffee, I'd love to see you!"<br /><br />And so I held the date tight in my mind. Didn't circle it on my calendar - it felt too much like tempting fate - but tattooed it behind my eyes, July 24th. Crossing fingers and biting my tongue and sending hesitant texts - <br /><br />"Want to ride together?"<br /><br />"What are you wearing?"<br /><br />"I found three coffee shops - you pick."<br /><b><br />Eight months later, July 24th rolled around, and friends - it was perfect.</b><br /><br /><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvSoTlHW-OHmRty39uI6u_FehM76z-B9jrQfy8inoSj-UZiSaoRAuABYv_2s7LK0j6QLuRkIAYOEDGmPash9AZaUcvH4GE2s0K5Xq1bvWmnfMGtF3CCICoPX0gHwpuCBFEtXn8zKu3wTLyvXFbnLxkc2QZDlW5WFl5Orz6hyvlVdTzPFNDs517AcIa/s4032/EE86A883-ED08-4770-ABB0-31CFE8AB7701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvSoTlHW-OHmRty39uI6u_FehM76z-B9jrQfy8inoSj-UZiSaoRAuABYv_2s7LK0j6QLuRkIAYOEDGmPash9AZaUcvH4GE2s0K5Xq1bvWmnfMGtF3CCICoPX0gHwpuCBFEtXn8zKu3wTLyvXFbnLxkc2QZDlW5WFl5Orz6hyvlVdTzPFNDs517AcIa/s320/EE86A883-ED08-4770-ABB0-31CFE8AB7701.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1KLKgvpbWz3OxJ-pTu1HkelWyQXyFntE4nWqWT0fet4GoiFb756bjB8moScQRsmeIPf97Ig1GhkodiFY8d9jQFq1qht-5Z16ma20V4TYSgHoI_XtxFTt_gPsIM6usscsxm2_0AlrWbGvQgHu_rqhNeBm9UZ9jbEoU9vAts3ouITxvc-pZXiwUwhz3/s4032/52BCBDBD-4D31-42F1-92D9-559903F244B4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1KLKgvpbWz3OxJ-pTu1HkelWyQXyFntE4nWqWT0fet4GoiFb756bjB8moScQRsmeIPf97Ig1GhkodiFY8d9jQFq1qht-5Z16ma20V4TYSgHoI_XtxFTt_gPsIM6usscsxm2_0AlrWbGvQgHu_rqhNeBm9UZ9jbEoU9vAts3ouITxvc-pZXiwUwhz3/w240-h320/52BCBDBD-4D31-42F1-92D9-559903F244B4.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvSoTlHW-OHmRty39uI6u_FehM76z-B9jrQfy8inoSj-UZiSaoRAuABYv_2s7LK0j6QLuRkIAYOEDGmPash9AZaUcvH4GE2s0K5Xq1bvWmnfMGtF3CCICoPX0gHwpuCBFEtXn8zKu3wTLyvXFbnLxkc2QZDlW5WFl5Orz6hyvlVdTzPFNDs517AcIa/s4032/EE86A883-ED08-4770-ABB0-31CFE8AB7701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRg_qd9brQTgwymCQCDdrM2gJxiSAkcIc6w3VB7os4Zd7s4Xir0K3JwagGVGss3VHZwzo_gBmN6QVQ77f-ndNqghS8xloJC0_lp9zHG-AY66ROtfXxvoVQ2m4ukaLx7aEBDE3PtiV0K4nu-o6DGv0d8FuWNBvoEFulMSN9cotWT14JR0Wu1TkrEG1/s4032/30FEB133-B82B-4E75-ACF3-0DBFBE8BB754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRg_qd9brQTgwymCQCDdrM2gJxiSAkcIc6w3VB7os4Zd7s4Xir0K3JwagGVGss3VHZwzo_gBmN6QVQ77f-ndNqghS8xloJC0_lp9zHG-AY66ROtfXxvoVQ2m4ukaLx7aEBDE3PtiV0K4nu-o6DGv0d8FuWNBvoEFulMSN9cotWT14JR0Wu1TkrEG1/s320/30FEB133-B82B-4E75-ACF3-0DBFBE8BB754.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><b><br /></b><br />There's just something about sitting around a table with people who know you - really know you - and who get the pieces of you that can't quite be put into words. But they were there, too. They know. <br /><br />It was sweet and special and healing, and it felt like a little miracle in the palm of my hand. To sit with people who knew my fifteen-year-old dreams and my eighteen-year-old fears, to be twenty-two and unpack the ways that things have changed - the ways we've changed - together. To see something we spent seven years hoping for come to life, even just for a day. <br /><br />There's something magical about getting to see a beautiful impossibility become real. To remember that there may be days where it feels like the world is burning, like everything is too heavy to hold, but that there will be other days that remind you that sometimes, good things do take time. That something you hold on to can still become tangible, no matter how afraid you are to believe it. <br /><br />And I'm just grateful for it all - for the miraculous magic of internet connections and steady friendship and community in all of its forms.<div><br />Here's to the impossible - may 22 be filled with its wonder. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSVAI5bAQOp_PHpAqnXqgoCjP-cmpcpfr9iuAUOsv0i0zAGuw87Gkl7GprNaeWOwTyqlhAmuDojynGjIcIkQTtZl6BaaGYZeOwJOWmqil0Udj9zvs1NPYM2a43uud9sXvXnrZMVdQrrefa6jXucB-EWzXKH48xsmY6oDK_6FfL_Te6OpbRA3uF0-sw/s1102/A9DFB7AC-AE89-4B8B-A606-D037BE714843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1102" data-original-width="826" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSVAI5bAQOp_PHpAqnXqgoCjP-cmpcpfr9iuAUOsv0i0zAGuw87Gkl7GprNaeWOwTyqlhAmuDojynGjIcIkQTtZl6BaaGYZeOwJOWmqil0Udj9zvs1NPYM2a43uud9sXvXnrZMVdQrrefa6jXucB-EWzXKH48xsmY6oDK_6FfL_Te6OpbRA3uF0-sw/w480-h640/A9DFB7AC-AE89-4B8B-A606-D037BE714843.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-64301363227744572212022-07-19T15:35:00.001-04:002023-02-03T16:49:34.915-05:00and with grace and grace and grace<p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhOD3-AeH5kO33AObYR3MUyVAKaeAkTm2Q4MvQVg_r0XTQTHDAq0JgVqaBySc_L2ZcNt5XIUXEJOO_Xxf6xoKUG3phPXJCvWwwMAVXoc-qSWngkD9wazY3s9jUSRfvs_90e3IBvmUXRwGab_hpWhUjYhNMR1spbYB1LsAAj4qkozQHppD71RajIbO/s999/IMG_0257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="749" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhOD3-AeH5kO33AObYR3MUyVAKaeAkTm2Q4MvQVg_r0XTQTHDAq0JgVqaBySc_L2ZcNt5XIUXEJOO_Xxf6xoKUG3phPXJCvWwwMAVXoc-qSWngkD9wazY3s9jUSRfvs_90e3IBvmUXRwGab_hpWhUjYhNMR1spbYB1LsAAj4qkozQHppD71RajIbO/s16000/IMG_0257.JPG" /></a></div><p></p><br />Last night, a friend asked me how my summer had been going. <br /><br />"Lots of work," I texted back, "lots of back and forth. Lots of chaos. I feel like I can't even remember it all." <br /><br />No, I can't seem to remember it all, and if I'm being honest, I struggle to describe it. Life has spun a thousand miles a minute the past few months, and in so many ways it has been so good, so special - though I'd be lying if I said I didn't find myself craving a moment to breathe every now and then. So far, this year has been a bundle of contradictions: slow and hectic, uncertain and stable, heavy and light. I talk to friends and they feel the same way - is this the erratic rhythm of being in your twenties? I find myself certain yet confused, hopeful yet worn, and I wonder how to make sense of it all, how best to move forward when things feel murky and strange. <br /><br />"Happy, free, confused, and lonely" never felt quite so close.<p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-----</span></p><br />Today, I turn 22.<br /><br />It crept up on me this year, courtesy of a July that has flown by in a blur of humidity and friendship and hastily scribbled journal entries. Normally, the time between my sister's birthday at the beginning of the month and my own feels more marked, but this time it's slipped through my fingers like seawater. I don't even think I really processed the fact that it was nearly here, which, knowing me, might have been for the best.<br /><br />Birthdays have always made me existential. (And I truly do mean always - according to my mom, turning four was absolutely devastating to me.) I find myself spending the weeks leading up obsessing over all I've yet to do and accomplish, panicking over all the upcoming year will hold. This year, though, has been such a whirlwind that I find myself unusually calm as the next trip around the sun approaches. Maybe August will be the month that brings my latest existential crisis, or maybe I'm finally coming a little bit more to terms with the fact that there's no use in anything but open hands. <p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-----</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p>21 was a year of hurting and healing. It was fast and strange and full of so much that felt new. A year that felt like a demolition of sorts, but also like rebuilding. I have a feeling that 22 will be a little like that, too. <br /><br />I never pictured that I would be where I am, that life would look like it does, but I'm finding that there's a special sort of hope in that, in the knowledge that I'm not steering the ship. In the fact that I'm here, and my people are here, and that's more than enough. Months and months ago, I remember coming across a post by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/writtentospeak/">Written to Speak</a> that read, "let mercy meet the madness", and in so many ways, I feel like that's the defining phrase of the past few years of life - so much madness, but mercy that supersedes it all, that's carried me through in ways I'll never begin to be able to put to the page. <br /><br />It's 2am now, and I'm penning these words in the dark, listening to the hum of the cicadas outside my window. I'm wrapped in my favorite sweatshirt, a soft gray one with long drawstrings that I bought at goodwill for three dollars because it reminded me of the beach, and my cat is curled up asleep at my feet for the first night in months. The quiet is comforting, and the summer night is warm, and I feel my eyelids beginning to grow heavy. <br /><br />And maybe I don't know what the year will bring, but I know that it began with doughnuts in the kitchen, because according to Taylor swift, 22 is breakfast at midnight. I know that it began with laughter, and dramatic singing, and texts that leave me marveling at the people God has let me have in my world. It began with my mom and my sisters and the peace that comes from a night after a July thunderstorm. <br /><br />There is a very big piece of me that is purely terrified of a new year - that's scared to death to keep building this life, to make so many different decisions and jumps. Scared of failing, of making the wrong call, of all that will come that I can't control. <br /><br />And yet, over and over, when I think of life and 22 and whatever wild adventure this year will be, I think of words that my dear, dear friend, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/resurrectionpoetry/">Hannah</a> wrote this past week that have been dancing through my mind ever since:<br /><br />"Do it afraid, do it badly,<br />But do it earnestly<br />And with grace and grace and grace."<br /><br />Because, as she has often reminded me, doing it afraid is just as brave - maybe braver. And so I carry that with me in my pocket, clinging to grace all the more tightly - do it afraid, do it badly, but do it earnestly. Do the next thing - and the next and the next and the next.<br /><br />And I think maybe that's how you build a life - how you build an adventure.<br /><br />So here's to you, 22 - to being uncertain and shaky, but here and sustained despite it all. To being happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time, to hopefully being a little less miserable and a whole lot more magical, and to a year of breakfast at midnight and falling in love with strangers. :-) I don't know what it will hold, but like Taylor says - I know that I'll just keep dancing. Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-88129077268987182642022-07-12T15:33:00.002-04:002023-02-03T16:59:11.372-05:00chasing stories<p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiXfXpCNtBlRNy94xmW70Zc2wsE0mRsM22DCJnVTD6DEPmI7zW5zTR4PZvGk5tXU6kTNynZ97NoG4cZlnw3RvtmclhdD_7jKjIFz_eJxN5fLwZCFCnSheBfoFvGcewc_pjXUkmSdMyXNsSkEmG2BMTI_FqepW9pLfFKYK0FP4AqMhFg15JkVd_n6G/s1000/AB0580C8-AF07-4D66-9842-6AFDA22D6144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="750" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiXfXpCNtBlRNy94xmW70Zc2wsE0mRsM22DCJnVTD6DEPmI7zW5zTR4PZvGk5tXU6kTNynZ97NoG4cZlnw3RvtmclhdD_7jKjIFz_eJxN5fLwZCFCnSheBfoFvGcewc_pjXUkmSdMyXNsSkEmG2BMTI_FqepW9pLfFKYK0FP4AqMhFg15JkVd_n6G/s16000/AB0580C8-AF07-4D66-9842-6AFDA22D6144.JPG" /></a></div><br />There's never been a time in my life when I wasn't writing or telling stories. <br /><br />When I was little, that meant every game of imagination that you can think of, from make-believe with my sisters to sitting with my grandfather, going back and forth making up stories together about being detectives or spies or stranded in the middle of nowhere, trying to find a way back home. <br /><br />Once I got a little older, the stories hit the page, and I was constantly scribbling messy tales into battered notebooks with a reckless abandon. Novels and journal entries, short stories and angsty preteen poetry — trust me, I wrote it all. <br /><br />It was the summer I turned fourteen that I made the jump into blogging, and suddenly the stories I was weaving together were about me, too. I don't think I fully realized what creative nonfiction writing was until that point, but I fell in love with it, fell in love with a community of people writing about life and God and all of the beauty and hurt that filled the cracks. This summer marks eight years of my corner of the internet, and I genuinely can't fathom my life — any facet of it, really — without growing up in this space, surrounded by these people. So much of me has been made from you, and I'm grateful for every second of it.<br /><br />And yet, I would be remiss not to admit that sometimes, a part of me wishes I didn't always live life chasing stories. <p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-----</span></p><br />Being a writer is a beautiful, sacred thing. My life has been shaped by words, and I wouldn't change that for the world. But writing is deeply personal, too - so much of what you write comes from your own life, especially when you write nonfiction. And the thing that often isn't talked about in regards to being a writer is how quickly you can find yourself looking at life as solely a story you can tell. <br /><br />There's a pull as a writer - especially when you're sharing your work online, because there's an added level of immediacy - to constantly have new stories to share. Life is a content well, and you'd better be bringing stories in by the bucket. If those stories involve a miracle from God, even better - you're succeeding tenfold. <br /><br />And so, very quickly, you find yourself looking for stories in your breakfast cereal and signs from God in your coffee cup. Your brain sifts through your day as your drive home, sorting out what could be expanded on or twisted into a clever metaphor and what can be tossed aside. It can become all-encompassing before you've even realized it's happening - and by then, it's such a habit that it's second nature. <br /><br />Worse still, what I realized a few years ago was that I was writing the endings to scenarios before they'd even begun. See, I'm someone who always likes to be two steps ahead - it's just how my brain works. I'm always trying to determine the outcome so that I can prepare should the worst case scenario come to pass. But if I'm not careful, I can quickly reach a point where I'm predicting the end of a situation that I can't possibly predict, and I convince myself that I know exactly what's going to happen, because narratively, it makes sense. It's just another story, and let's be honest - stories can become pretty formulaic. The more time you spend in them, the easier it becomes to see where they're going, and I was convinced that I had hit that point in just about every area. <br /><br />I would find myself in a hard situation, and I would immediately jump three steps ahead, convinced that I knew exactly what God was going to do and what lesson he wanted me to learn. <br /><br />"Well," I would think to myself, "x happened, which means y will happen next, and then z will get taken away because God wants to show me _____ and I need to learn _____." And it probably goes without saying, but the lessons I would find myself envisioning were never very pleasant - they all involved some horrible loss or disappointment or grief that I would have to endure for the sake of a lesson. <br /><br />In a lot of ways, I think it was a defense mechanism. If the worst case scenario came to pass, it would hurt less if I'd already prepared myself, right? If I was never caught off guard, I might not have a very optimistic outlook on life, but at least the ground couldn't be ripped out from under me. It was a very desperate attempt at grasping onto a shred of control, and I threw myself into it with everything I had. <br /><br />But the thing is, life is more than just a story. <br /><br />And while I'm not here to claim I'm just a pawn, I'm not the one writing it. <br /><br />I say all of this because I know that a lot of you who read these letters are writers, too. And I know that, as a writer, it is so incredibly easy to live life chasing a story. It isn't always a bad thing - we need stories. But when we step away from the pen, we need a life that isn't just content. We need a life that's ours.<br /><br />Life isn't always going to be miracles and gutting loss. It's also laundry and taxes and cleaning the pantry on a Saturday morning. It's long walks that don't lead to epiphanies, and conversations with friends about things the internet will never know, and going to bed early at the end of a long week. And maybe there's irony in the fact that I'm writing about the fact that there are parts of life that aren't meant to see the page, but it's one of the truest things I've come to know. And I wish I could tell my nineteen-year-old self that as she walked through life desperate for a story to fall out of the sky. I wish I could tell my twenty-year-old self that when she was tired and afraid and desperate to never be surprised again. <br /><br />I wish I had understood sooner that to write is to hold the magical and the mundane together. That life is more than a story dropped into your lap - it's a thousand moments of noticing. That you can't be present to the world around you if all you can think about is the end that you think is being written - that you won't notice anything at all. <br /><br />Your life is your life - beautiful and terrible and boring and confusing and sweet and strange. And it's going to be filled with some absolutely incredible stories, but sometimes, they're not going to be for the page - they're just going to be for you. <br /><br />Sometimes, those will be the best of all.<br /><br />Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-70834618525497943812022-05-17T11:37:00.039-04:002022-06-24T00:46:43.220-04:00seashells like manna<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKGN31iAA3Q6Py-_cw4SwCCeQ6nRBimQvj4WhE82LFD9-62uGY2S0WxvOp4PthSBPOWraTFYARNEJngarLf7WE6az-zf6uyRR5u18Ii1fSQEmSsksEfY6N1vp8lhAepiUrKYFvU46TfdNISIxTGNy5Ww_jBoV19B0RjXm2ZlsKMd-TooAILAcYPxk/s4032/E6C10911-76B6-40C0-9316-2B6738861A62.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKGN31iAA3Q6Py-_cw4SwCCeQ6nRBimQvj4WhE82LFD9-62uGY2S0WxvOp4PthSBPOWraTFYARNEJngarLf7WE6az-zf6uyRR5u18Ii1fSQEmSsksEfY6N1vp8lhAepiUrKYFvU46TfdNISIxTGNy5Ww_jBoV19B0RjXm2ZlsKMd-TooAILAcYPxk/s16000/E6C10911-76B6-40C0-9316-2B6738861A62.JPG" /></a></div><p></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I'm fully aware that this story might sound a little bit crazy. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;"><b>But gosh, it's one I won't be forgetting.</b> </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">One of my favorite things about relationships is the way in which you build your own language with another person. You create a lexicon of inside jokes and old memories, bandaged broken pieces and patterns that feel like home. It's unique and familiar and something that can't be replicated.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I think it's like that with God, too. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I know a girl who swears that whenever she needs a little pick-me-up, she finds a ladybug - her and God, that's their thing. For another friend, it's a song. Everyone has a different story, and I love the specificity of it all, the intentionality. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">As for me, Jesus and I like to hang out in the seashells. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I've always loved looking for shells, the product of growing up with a mother and grandmother who were shell-finding fiends. Most of my earliest memories of the beach involve walking with them, looking for shark's teeth and shells that sparkled in the light. But a few years back, I realized what a breath of fresh air they could be. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I've never been good at slowing down, which comes as no surprise if you've been reading my words for any amount of time. I always want to keep moving, to keep going, to check as many tasks off the list as I can. But when it comes to finding the best shells, you can't do that. You've got to stay put, to dig in. It's when you take the time to look closer and to really sift through all of the broken pieces that you'll find the most beautiful ones. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;"><b>And so, when I was at my most shattered, Jesus plopped me in a bed of shells and let me sit in the sunlight and sift. And along the way, we made our own language out of it.</b> </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Nowadays, my shell-hunting is a little less therapy and a little more of a treasure hunt again, but it's still one of the most calming places to land for me. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">If you ever find yourself wandering the Carolina shore looking for shells, you probably won't be the only one. We frequent a handful of sleepy towns along the coast, and more often than not I find myself falling into conversation with someone else spending their golden hour scanning for shark's teeth and sand dollars. Everyone has something specific they're on the hunt for, and it's fun to compare notes on the best spots for different finds. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Me? I'm a sucker for anything tiny. I love the big, gorgeous shells as much as anyone, but I get the most excited when I stumble onto something tiny and perfect and beautiful, the kind of shell that you have to work extra-hard to land on. My favorites are the ones that I refer to as baby conchs - technically whelks, since conchs are found in more tropical regions, but that same classic, dramatic look.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">They're rarer than most of the shells that I find myself bringing home, and I'm always excited when I stumble onto one. If I find a few over the course of a trip, I'm counting it a success.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">A few days into the trip, my family and I went on a long walk down to the end of the island - my favorite spot. The tide was low, and there were shells scattered everywhere. My family has long since learned that, in these situations, the best plan is to abandon me to my own devices, and I ended up spending several hours wandering home by myself, traipsing up and down the beach. I hadn't thought to bring a bag with me, and soon I was cupping handfuls of shells in my palms before remembering that, for once, I <em>did</em> have pockets. I ended up stuffing them full, and along the way, I found several tiny, beautiful baby conchs. I couldn't believe my luck - it was the best kind of afternoon. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">As I finally began to make the trek back to our little blue house, I remember thinking to myself, <em>Wouldn't it just be so sweet to find a baby conch every day while I'm here? Just one? That would be so fun.</em> It wasn't really a prayer, not much more than a passing thought. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">But the next day, as I wandered down the beach in the opposite direction, I stumbled onto another one. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em><span style="color: #202020;">Huh, </span></em><span style="color: #202020;">I thought to myself. <em>That's crazy. Two days in a row?</em></span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Then the next day, I found another. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I froze. <em>There's no way...</em></span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">That's right, dear reader. By the time I was packing my bags to head back to my own corner of the south, I had found a baby conch shell every. single. day. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">More often than not, I found two. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Sometimes they were the result of careful scanning, of sifting through a bed of broken shells until I landed on the perfect one. More often than not, they were just sitting atop the sand as I walked, as if they were waiting just for me. Whether the weather was gorgeous and we were out until the sun went down or rain or wind had us scrambling for cover, one always seemed to cross my path before the day was done. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">It was like a seaside manna, just for me. A daily ritual of intentionality, an inside joke wrapped in salt air. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Our trip wrapped up on Saturday, and on our way out of town, we decided to check out a spot my mom had read about on Facebook - a hidden gem of a shell spot that we had somehow never known existed, despite visiting the island for years. We're never in a rush to leave the ocean, and what could it hurt to check it out? </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">When we finally pulled ourselves away four hours later, I immediately texted a friend: <em>I have seen the promised land</em>. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">It was absolutely spectacular. One of the widest beaches I've ever seen, with huge beds of shells everywhere you turned. People would pass holding giant conchs in hand, or walking slow, keeping their eyes on the surf and all it brought in with each crashing wave. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">As you can imagine, I was lost to the world in a matter of minutes, my drawstring pack slung over my shoulder, a grocery bag in hand for more fragile finds. I think that I could have stayed there forever. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">And in those four hours, I found more baby conchs than I could count. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I lost track completely. They showed up everywhere I turned. I could barely take two steps before stumbling upon another, crouching back down on the sand a mere foot away from where I'd found one moments before. It was more than a little mind-blowing, and entirely magical. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Everyone has certain lies that they're prone to falling prey to. It's something that's come up a lot in conversations with friends lately - the way our own minds trick us into believing things that couldn't be further from the truth. One of mine that's popped up more often than I'd care to admit over the past several years has been that I've been forgotten by God. Left behind. And while I'm grounded enough to know logically that I'm being irrational, it's still a feeling that has to be fought all the same. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">So to experience something so sweet, so intentional on a thousand different levels - it's special and meaningful and centering in the best possible way. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">The thing about God that blows me away is that it was one of those things that wouldn't mean much of anything to anyone else. To most people, shells are just...well, shells. They're pretty, and it's fun to stumble onto a unique one, but at the end of the day, they probably won't give them much thought. But for me - that's my language. It's what will catch my attention.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">So, for me, it was a reminder - something tangible - that even when it feels like my world is in disarray, I haven't been left by the side of the road. A reminder of goodness, and kindness, and of abundance. And as the week went on, every time I would catch that familiar spiral shape out of the corner of my eye, I had to laugh. <em>Okay, God</em>, I'd think. <em>I get it. I see you.</em></span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">And so this week, as I unpack and regroup and fall back into routine once more, I'll brush the sand off of my finds and line them up on the edges of my bookshelves where I can see them. I'll bring a little of the ocean into my everyday rhythms - and keep that reminder close.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLaY_vL7X_LMjpmXn9u2dcWaMI0JZt-HZP5oIUIPnsuT0hEO79wEZNSvHfGxcHeqeCUOEU-LcDDg9qNgWV3RpogqgX8QDJiIwVX-vdB1zikPhCFUghKTkoULaNZC85LfyRgTYlB-l4_hqDjdGmXVIGn-OwXdQ4xp3qMqrfz5cbZ9teGd4Rl-rdGdW/s4032/E699D328-ED89-4344-ADAA-C5A3A4254313.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLaY_vL7X_LMjpmXn9u2dcWaMI0JZt-HZP5oIUIPnsuT0hEO79wEZNSvHfGxcHeqeCUOEU-LcDDg9qNgWV3RpogqgX8QDJiIwVX-vdB1zikPhCFUghKTkoULaNZC85LfyRgTYlB-l4_hqDjdGmXVIGn-OwXdQ4xp3qMqrfz5cbZ9teGd4Rl-rdGdW/w236-h315/E699D328-ED89-4344-ADAA-C5A3A4254313.JPG" width="236" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgymZV0QgdeV55YhZHRN0-x4dMzXrzefyzbNbjtun8AMiGvqcHmDjIHADM9Q8SQOou3abVs8j2-aBo2tobl9rW4m5HMiB9SgVhYT45HLFFI_BXjAN7X4CfCX2_cazzT2WrxcfAKN1oLe0GRKNpo2kRTb3a7W64WoHG6LFScyerU6TFO07ZAwCS9DX0/s4032/AC4034F9-156F-4F7C-A349-F89EEDFFA6C4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgymZV0QgdeV55YhZHRN0-x4dMzXrzefyzbNbjtun8AMiGvqcHmDjIHADM9Q8SQOou3abVs8j2-aBo2tobl9rW4m5HMiB9SgVhYT45HLFFI_BXjAN7X4CfCX2_cazzT2WrxcfAKN1oLe0GRKNpo2kRTb3a7W64WoHG6LFScyerU6TFO07ZAwCS9DX0/s320/AC4034F9-156F-4F7C-A349-F89EEDFFA6C4.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNm6kQOrJr0I_7el99heTNBTsPQ6JdSO7RJLA6dGj1gBw9Q5jkNOmr2JeW3toJDSWFmHh4IZgSltwDzzBTZ-bIyMIVXg_EGDUCIurG6U9YgC7yYVUXlN-EyM4C3MiK3jN2Q1p2UTf9isgbA0n3aofqiQQ3m8MI65dKuueAvnWUu7MLlzfohSWesbbt/s4032/865EC409-B705-490F-9358-8C362AA773ED.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNm6kQOrJr0I_7el99heTNBTsPQ6JdSO7RJLA6dGj1gBw9Q5jkNOmr2JeW3toJDSWFmHh4IZgSltwDzzBTZ-bIyMIVXg_EGDUCIurG6U9YgC7yYVUXlN-EyM4C3MiK3jN2Q1p2UTf9isgbA0n3aofqiQQ3m8MI65dKuueAvnWUu7MLlzfohSWesbbt/s320/865EC409-B705-490F-9358-8C362AA773ED.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit;">I don't know what May has held for you so far, my friends, but I hope that if nothing else, you're reminded of just how known and cared for you are by Him - and that you see that intentionality come through every single day, even through something as small as seashells that feel like manna.</span></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-88388036386331871632022-05-10T11:26:00.007-04:002022-06-23T23:36:42.566-04:00the little blue house by the sea<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2EvIeyYagNkOYGuI328YfO_o0ylvH3litsHon9_Wf9YB79qBkkyDOL_aJDY6n4JoXzFxJp2RM6A2cNb4p_jjNmHMliHtxr_oQ7WPYOIFavOYMmh45tMSCXSiVFLA_anwhBHl_fMMVoqddN4wRinb327UEOVghAu9SIrhk-qR6dNTDG-uH4dxiYNz/s3938/IMG_0053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3938" data-original-width="2954" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2EvIeyYagNkOYGuI328YfO_o0ylvH3litsHon9_Wf9YB79qBkkyDOL_aJDY6n4JoXzFxJp2RM6A2cNb4p_jjNmHMliHtxr_oQ7WPYOIFavOYMmh45tMSCXSiVFLA_anwhBHl_fMMVoqddN4wRinb327UEOVghAu9SIrhk-qR6dNTDG-uH4dxiYNz/w480-h640/IMG_0053.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">The last time I was here, the world was burning. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">At least, that’s how I began the poem that I wrote over the weekend, a tangle of words long coming. I’m still in North Carolina, still letting the salt air fill my lungs and the crash of the waves lull me to sleep at night. I love my hometown, and in many ways I’m wildly attached to it, but if I ever were to move, it would be here – the safest place I know. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I’ve traipsed up and down the North Carolina coast several times over the course of the past year, but the specific spot where we’ve taken up camp over the past week and a half is a particularly special one. The last time that we were here was eighteen months ago, nearly to the day. For two weeks in the late fall, we ran away to a little blue house by the sea. We were battered and bruised, and we needed a refuge. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I don’t know that I’ve ever written about those two weeks, not really. Maybe because to write about them would mean writing about 2020 and trying to put words to the way that it wrecked me. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">By the time that late October rolled around with her fiery sunsets and falling leaves, I was a shell of myself. Grief had yanked me inside out, and I was all shaky hands and tired heart. I’d pegged everything – and I truly mean everything – on this escape. It was an unreasonable amount of weight to put on two weeks, but I was desperate. It was the only lifeline I had in sight. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I cried the night we arrived. It was the last way I expected to begin the trip, but it was one of those moments where the tiniest of disasters triggered a flood of the weight of the world. I just remember the exhaustion of it, the hopelessness. It was nothing new and that was the worst part of all. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Over the next two weeks, the world burned on, but I felt like – for a moment – I was able to pop out from underneath the smoke. The pandemic raged on, and the election had the country in turmoil, and my heart was no less broken. But at the same time, I was in a bubble – spending time with family and listening to Zoom classes while I slathered on sunscreen and taking long walks in the cold November air. And in the tiniest of ways, I found myself feeling like mending wasn’t entirely impossible. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">We rarely stay at the same properties twice – rentals vary from year to year, and you never know how prices and availability will shift. But somehow I find myself writing this letter from the little blue house once more, curled up in the bedroom at the end of the hall. I have the most vivid memory of writing a Tuesday Letter in this very spot, about seashells and breathing and noticing the good. It’s déjà vu in the truest sense.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Being here again has been weird and wild and wonderful. I love this place, love this house, this part of the island. I would be so content to stay here forever. And at the same time, being back is the strangest feeling, laced with bittersweetness.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I don’t always know how to equate the girl I was then to the girl I am now. I still hold so many of the broken pieces of that November, but the edges aren’t as sharp now. They clink around and cause a ruckus every now and then, but they’ve been sanded down; they don’t make me bleed. They’re sea glass, softened by the beating waves. And I wish that I could tell her that, the girl from eighteen months ago. I wish I could tell her that she wouldn’t bleed forever. I don’t think that she would believe me – I can nearly guarantee she wouldn’t. But maybe a bit of it would stick. Just a bit. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">And over the past nine days of being here, that’s been the thought that I haven’t been able to get out of my head – I’m okay in a way that I didn’t know I could be eighteen months ago. In some ways, that I didn’t know I could be eight months ago, or six months ago. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #202020; font-family: inherit;">It felt impossible until it didn’t, and I think that’s the thing that I keep coming back to, the reason that I’m utterly spilling my guts on </span><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32);">this</span></span><span style="color: #202020; font-family: inherit;"> page. For so long, it felt so impossible. And there was no pinpoint moment where the world turned around, nothing that I can hold to the light or put on a pedestal to sing the praises of or capture as a mental photograph. This isn’t your survival guide to getting out of the woods, because if I’m being honest, there was no grand system to it for me. That’s not to say there weren’t certain things that helped – there absolutely were, and maybe I’ll write about them one day. But I’m not your poster girl for finding yourself again through cross country moves or ten-step cleanses. My road was rocky and strange and disorganized. But it wasn't a dead end the way that I thought it would be. </span><span style="color: #202020; font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">The thing that encouraged me most was when I sat across from someone who said, "Hey. I was there, too. But I made it out. You will too." </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I can't tell you what your road will look like. But I can sit across the table from you at a coffee shop or sit on your bedroom floor, leaned up against the wall, and tell you that I made it out. That you will, too. And that's the reason I wanted to write these words. Not to fill a page with answers, because lord knows I don't have those. But to climb down next to you in the trench and tell you that I get it. To tell you that you can crawl out, bit by bit. To tell you that it might happen before you even realize you've done it. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">And I think I keep looking for something profound to say about it all, when perhaps the most profound thing is simply this: whether you can see it now or not, there will come a day when you're more okay than you thought you could be. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I can't wait to celebrate that day with you when it comes. </span></span><span style="color: #202020; font-family: Helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-69642136268625641282022-04-19T13:30:00.009-04:002022-06-24T21:24:35.341-04:00joy is not made to be a crumb<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHME2VrMSl83hKcb7rSgCy5Nq8_1c7-j03ZYTdhdIn_H72P2e2jpUzjU1poaE90-yKJdvyZaQjaLAqDfV5GAUF0O9wZd07ZbD9CSVSN3ZzmvhAKqrP_pNUoHhLoWIZUJvT4SvOhEtkY2Y_SLx4QueTaoqEfjSvR8fJRiFegNBssBe5kZL03q_OK_hZ/s1200/3473C955-C2ED-4E92-8C70-C4AE37E5F009.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="946" data-original-width="749" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHME2VrMSl83hKcb7rSgCy5Nq8_1c7-j03ZYTdhdIn_H72P2e2jpUzjU1poaE90-yKJdvyZaQjaLAqDfV5GAUF0O9wZd07ZbD9CSVSN3ZzmvhAKqrP_pNUoHhLoWIZUJvT4SvOhEtkY2Y_SLx4QueTaoqEfjSvR8fJRiFegNBssBe5kZL03q_OK_hZ/s16000/3473C955-C2ED-4E92-8C70-C4AE37E5F009.JPG" /></a></p><div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="padding: 6.75pt 0in 0in;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="padding: 0in 13.5pt 6.75pt;" valign="top"><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I realized several years ago that I was living in fear of plenty.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">I'd never even heard of having a scarcity mindset until God slapped me across the face with "abundance" as my word for 2019 one early January night, a seemingly out-of-nowhere declaration that would end up defining those twelve months for me in so many ways. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Scarcity and abundance are a weird tug of war to find yourself in the middle of - worrying that you're always going to run out, while simultaneously being afraid that when you finally get "it" - whatever "it" may be in your life - that it will be the last time things are good, as if you've used up your last wild card in Uno and all that's left is getting slapped with Draw 4's for the rest of your days. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">You can unpack the two for ages, but at the root, it comes down to fear - of instability, of loss, of hoping for something you can't have. And it's not an easy mindset to untangle yourself from, no matter how often you beat it back.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Oftentimes, I've found that it's in the most beautiful moments that it shows up the loudest. Whether it's the result of seasons of loss or simply cynicism, I can't say, but joy always seems to carry a bittersweet flavor with it - the knowledge of an ending, or of anticipated change. Sometimes, I think we can find it easier to leave space there instead - to not allow ourselves to step fully into the joy in an attempt to avoid some of the loss that could come with it. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">There's a vulnerability that comes with joy. It requires a bit of release, a little more openness than we're used to or comfortable with. Joy requires us to let go, to uncurl our fingers in order to be able to fully grasp it. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">It's beautiful, and it's meaningful, and it doesn't always feel safe. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">April is National Poetry Month, and as such, I've been trying to surround myself with even more poetry than usual for the past few weeks. Mary Oliver will always be one of my all-time favorite poets, and over the weekend, I was reminded on more than one occasion of her words:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><strong>"Joy is not made to be a crumb."</strong></span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #202020; font-family: inherit;">She writes:</span><span style="color: #202020; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="padding: 0in;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="padding: 6.75pt 13.5pt;"><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">of lives and whole towns destroyed or about<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">to be. We are not wise, and not very often<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">kind. And much can never be redeemed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">is its way of fighting back, that sometimes<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">something happens better than all the riches<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">or power in the world. It could be anything,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">but very likely you notice it in the instant<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Playfair Display"; font-size: 10.5pt;">of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="padding: 6.75pt 0in 0in;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="padding: 0in 13.5pt 6.75pt;" valign="top"><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Sometimes, allowing yourself to step fully into joy can be the most rebellious decision that you can make. But joy - as Mary Oliver so aptly said - is not made to be a crumb. No, joy is meant to creep into all of the cracks and crevices; not to graze, but to fill. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">And when it feels safer to just allow yourself the crumb - when it feels terrifying to allow yourself more than you can pinch between your forefinger and your thumb - I think that's the biggest sign of all that it's time to stop hesitating and jump. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Because maybe she's right - maybe things can't be redeemed, at least not the way that you hoped they would be.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong><span style="color: #202020;">But maybe there's still possibility here.</span></strong><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">And maybe recognizing that possibility is the first step to finding the fistfuls of joy that you've been too afraid to grab hold of. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">What would life look like if you weren't afraid of joy, of its plenty? What would change if, when unexpected moments of joy hit...you let them? </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">What would change in your world?</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">What would change in you? </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Joy is a gift, friends. A wonderful, exhilarating, sometimes terrifying gift, and I hope that this week, you find yourself embracing it with everything you've got. I hope that, amidst all of the heaviness and darkness that the world tries to throw at you, hope and joy can be your sparks in the fight. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Because there's too much beauty left in the world for you to let joy be a crumb.</span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202020;">Happy Tuesday, friends. Go read a poem, or hug your humans, or let the sun wash over your face. Listen to your favorite song and text someone to tell them you love them and eat some dark chocolate, just because. </span><span style="color: #202020;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 7.5pt 0in;"><span style="color: #202020; font-family: inherit;">May you find more joy along the way than you thought was possible. </span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-63461494688256832102021-11-25T16:53:00.000-05:002021-11-27T13:23:00.971-05:00Thankfulness Thursday II<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjFojRRQ50T9QiYl1XeJ4ovfgOF8leiNUtNUY8Qt88WtWglS3FCmHRHNkYRroI-G7PL_wL71_cl5uCv7Lc9Z42lUPZDxdBlLmC3CS2aT5Gk-lQMvrFGg_0AkftR7PH3jdyQyReg3pK4o/s2048/IMG_0591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjFojRRQ50T9QiYl1XeJ4ovfgOF8leiNUtNUY8Qt88WtWglS3FCmHRHNkYRroI-G7PL_wL71_cl5uCv7Lc9Z42lUPZDxdBlLmC3CS2aT5Gk-lQMvrFGg_0AkftR7PH3jdyQyReg3pK4o/w480-h640/IMG_0591.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Hi friends - Happy Thanksgiving. :-)</p><p>Thanksgiving is always a quiet one over here, and that's exactly how I like it. I've been slammed as of late with all of the chaos of graduation (only two weeks away! what?!), and have been so looking forward to a quieter pace, even just for a day. </p><p>The trees are more and more bare every time that I drive through the mountains, and I feel as though I'm living in an in-between, not here nor there. November always feels like that, I think, but even more so this year, with so much on the verge of changing and becoming new. I haven't decided if I like that yet. </p><p style="text-align: left;">But for now, it's Thanksgiving, and my world is calm. And that is perfectly fine with me. :-)</p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;">Last year, for <a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/11/thankfulness-thursday-ii.html" target="_blank">one of my Thankfulness Thursday posts</a>, I wrote about moments of oblivion amidst the chaos that was 2020. Oblivion wasn't quite the right word - because let's be honest, we were all too aware of just about everything last year. But amidst the mess, there were moments in which the world didn't feel quite so terrible - moments where the hard wasn't quite so consuming. I wrote that those moments were what I wanted to remember of the year - not the moments of worry or hurt or exhaustion, but the moments of peace, of joy, of normalcy. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I'd be lying if I said that I've managed to rewire my view of 2020 enough to look back on it with fondness - the 2020 Christmas ornament that I banned from my grandmother's Christmas tree can speak to that. (But come on, you can't tell me that thing would be a good omen for the holiday season. You just can't.) It remains a year that I would be all too happy to forget, no question about it. But looking back on the words that I wrote last year, there were so many moments that I'm grateful for, even if they felt far too few and far between. I don't know if a single post has ever transported me back to a litany of moments so quickly. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I can't say I quite have the words for 2021 yet. I'm grateful that it's been lighter than 2020 was, but gosh it's been a rough one all the same. Still, I want to remember the good. I want to remember just how much <b>has </b>been to be grateful for, even amidst it all. And so, a new tradition begins - of hanging on to those sweet moments of peace and oblivion, no matter where they're found. </p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>The new year begins. We're tired and we're sad and we're worn, but we blast Taylor Swift and start new traditions, and ring in the new year on the floor with a jigsaw puzzle. We hold on to hope. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>My mom and I road trip, just the two of us. The day is hard, but we drive into the sunset and play all of our favorite songs, and I think I could live in this moment.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Early February holds a morning that's just about perfect. The sun is shining, and my mom and sister and I go on a museum adventure. It's a gift in about a thousand ways. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>We play games with my grandparents and everything feels right again.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>It's early, early March, but it's eighty degrees, and secretly I think the south knows I need it. (God knew I needed it.) I read in the sun. We get the best news that day, and I refuse to believe it's not related.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Spring comes again. I don't know why I always doubt it. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>My kids my kids my kids. God, I love my kids. It's not oblivion, no, but it's joy. They gave me a shirt so that I'd remember them, but how could I ever forget?</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>It's April and I find myself in the same coffee shop as Hannah Brencher. How is life real?</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Performance night. Once again there's no oblivion to it, but one night I'm joined by a friend I haven't seen in ages, and the next I sit on the floor next to my favorite person. I wish I could hold onto them forever, but in this moment I'm just glad I'm here.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>The roads are winding and unfamiliar, but before I know it, I'm in Georgia hugging Hailey and it's so sweet and so wild, I can't quite wrap my head around it. When I get home that night, there are cars wrapped down my driveway and so many of my favorite humans are on my back porch, talking and laughing, and it is so, so good.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>We dance in the sun.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Two weeks at the sea. The ocean always tries to heal my heart, bit by bit. I sit on the porch and stare at the sunset until there isn't a drop of light left, tiny flecks of seashells and sand still stuck to my skin.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>-----</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>"I booked my flight."</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>There's nothing I love more than the late summer air. We sit under the lights in my best friends backyard and laugh with people who've been there for it all.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>June sounds like the rustle of picnic blankets and the snap of a camera lens. We explore our own city, because why not?</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Atlanta. There will never be words. We run around the city and laugh over the stupidest things and soak in every last second of being together. It's summertime picnics and good music and staying in Hanne's hotel room until ungodly hours because we just don't want to say goodbye.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>I turn twenty-one and feel more loved than I knew was possible. All I can think as I drift off to sleep: may we all be so lucky.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Book sales and cream puffs and my sweet grandma's birthday. I teach my first dance classes since May just a few days later and leave that night to the prettiest sunset.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>-----</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>My last first day. It's strange to be back, but this time, my sister is with me. We run into old friends and face the season of new.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>-----</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>I have never been so grateful to hear my phone's text chime.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>September holds weekends at the lake and the most precious downtown day and picnics with Mary Shelley. The crepe myrtles are still in bloom, and I snap a photo for Keira. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>The weeks blur, but they're sweet. Dancing in the car and eyeball parties in literature, movie kidnappings and lots of Come From Away.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>We celebrate my grandparents' sixtieth anniversary with a last-minute beach retreat. We walk, and I savor every sunrise.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Broadway is back. It's the very first night and our city is alive. I've never seen this many people at the theater before, and the electricity makes me want to weep. No one cares about the masks or the checks - we're just here to watch Orpheus bring the world to life once more.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>The fall afternoons are gentle. I sit on the swing with the same book I've been trying to finish all semester and watch people pass as they crunch through the fallen leaves. The light is golden as I drive home through the winding roads, and music from the playlist my friends sent pumps through my speakers and into my heart.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>-----</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Some people just feel like home, and she's one of them. We sit on her porch for hours, and I end up in her kitchen until late into the night. And I'm nothing but grateful. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>The light is perfect as I spin through the field. I hear the click of the camera and can't believe there are just a few weeks left. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>-----</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>It's freezing and I couldn't care less. I laugh with three of my dearest friends for the first time in three and a half years, and I think to myself how lucky I am to have people who loved me at nine and still love me today. How lucky we are, the four of us, to have each other.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Thanksgiving. We're together. What else could I ever ask for?</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;">I am so easily discouraged when I think back on the past year. But oh, how much gratitude I hold for it. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm grateful that when it comes to moments from the past year, this post really only scratches the surface.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm grateful for rest, and for art, and for light. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm grateful for laughter - because isn't it just the most beautiful thing? </p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm grateful for new beginnings, even when they're the last thing that I want. I'm grateful that the sun always rises in the morning, and that life can, too.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm grateful for connection, and for community. Life is always, always, always more beautiful when I'm with my people. I'm grateful for the friendships that span decades, and for the friendships that span months, and I'm grateful for the people who've come into my life through this space - wildly, wildly grateful. You all have held me up, time and time again, and I feel forever in your debt for that.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm grateful for a God who holds me, even when I'm crazy enough to think He's not. I'm grateful that He loves me even when my brain is a mess, and that He keeps reminding me, over and over again. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm grateful that we're here. That I'm here. That you're here. That my people are alright. For health, and for home. The world's still spinning. We're all here. And that will always be more than enough. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Happy Thanksgiving, friends. Thanks for sticking around for another year of Thankfulness Thursdays - they've been a joy. Grateful for each and every one of you every day. </p><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;">-----</span></span></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><i><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;">Thankfulness Thursday Friends </span></span><b>♥</b></i></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><b><a href="https://closetonothingblog.blogspot.com/2021/11/thankfulness-thursday-no-3.html" style="color: lightpink; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Keira -- Close to Nothing</a></b></div><p style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-84189778437113787832021-11-11T10:20:00.073-05:002021-11-12T16:35:32.664-05:00Thankfulness Thursday I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoU-1lLEJISxOZPIxb5RtF_bOqj9blt8XPPl1qLbolVc0BjBAWqYyUekTcibychxmwMWS6YXmgGPPNridyTFEElZL0qMYUSgWKwJKKuqltcRo8aTYvBpV_F_AzHyx6ycfFTHTBiY1oiaM/s2048/32179FC1-4E23-40E8-8F32-DB0F9BAF6328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoU-1lLEJISxOZPIxb5RtF_bOqj9blt8XPPl1qLbolVc0BjBAWqYyUekTcibychxmwMWS6YXmgGPPNridyTFEElZL0qMYUSgWKwJKKuqltcRo8aTYvBpV_F_AzHyx6ycfFTHTBiY1oiaM/w480-h640/32179FC1-4E23-40E8-8F32-DB0F9BAF6328.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>And, we're back. :-)</p><p>For the past seven years (!!!), November has meant Thankfulness Thursdays here on the blog. It's so funny because I truly never intended for this to be what it has become - when I started Thankfulness Thursdays, I was fifteen and couldn't come up with anything to post about on my blog. I remember distinctly talking to my mom about it in the car one day and saying, "Well, it's November, so I guess I can do a gratitude series or something to have some content this month." I certainly never expected to still be here, six Novembers later, but I'm oh so glad that I am. :-)</p><p>I know that I keep promising to come back with life updates and all of my typical content, and I promise, I haven't forgotten. Soon soon soon!</p><p>But for now, Thankfulness Thursdays are taking the reins. In case you're new and don't know the drill - <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Lato;">every Thursday for the month of November, I share a post here on the blog centering around gratitude or what I'm particularly grateful for. Over the years, the challenge has changed and grown and now we keep the party going over on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/totallygraced/" style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);" target="_blank">Instagram</a> as well! I started the month over there this time around, but I'm planning to have the next three weeks here one the blog, too. </span></span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px;">My favorite part of Thankfulness Thursdays is seeing people join in - I love this little community, and I love hearing your thoughts over the course of the month. There’s no major method to the madness - I would just love for you to share what’s on your heart this November. This year has been a wild one, and I’m really hoping that Thankfulness Thursdays will be a way for us all to take a step back and just breathe.</p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px;">Tag me in your posts on Instagram, and I will share them on my story, and shoot me a comment, email, or DM if you post for Thankfulness Thursday on your blog, and I’ll link to it on my blog post for that week so that we all can see what everyone is sharing.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px;">-----</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Lato;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-size: 15px;">This year has been a strange one. I think that a piece of me thought that once we got past 2020, we would be able to breathe again, and while there's no doubt that this year has been no 2020 (thank GOD), I can't call it a cakewalk, either. I feel as though I'm living in a dichotomy of immense gratitude and utter uncertainty and unrest, and I don't know how to level the two. Perhaps you never do? </span></span></span></div><p>The biggest thing that I know is that we constantly have to be rewiring our brains for gratitude. Because at the end of the day, it's a choice - choosing gratitude in the midst of the uncertainty. </p><p>A few months ago, I was talking on the phone with a friend. She was asking me what I was thinking as far as life after graduation goes (because, oh yeah, I graduate in four weeks. Like I said, I really need to do a life update on here), and I was expressing my general panic at the fact that I have no earthly idea. I've always been the girl with a plan, and suddenly not having one is just about my least favorite thing in the world. </p><p>I truly don't remember what I even said, but after I finished explaining where I was with it all, my friend said, "Well, isn't that kind of exciting though?" </p><p>(Reader, I have not been excited.)</p><p>"You don't have any expectations for this season," she said, "and it's pretty hard to be disappointed when you don't have any expectations to begin with. So really, you can just be excited to see what happens next, right? You get to do something new, and you have all the options in the world. So, look at the excitement of it. Not the fear." </p><p>It was a perspective that I quite literally had not even begun to consider before that moment. </p><p>And, despite my ongoing anxiety about it all - it helped me to reframe my perspective. </p><p>It helped me to find gratitude in a situation that I hadn't been giving much space for positivity at all. </p><p>And isn't that what we have to keep doing in everything? </p><p>It's about reframing. It's about gaining a new perspective. It's about taking a step back and letting yourself look at something in a different light - a better light. </p><p>So here's to reframing towards gratitude, even when it's hard - and to the people who help us do it when we aren't able to on our own. </p><p>May we hold those people close - and may we be those people to those around us. </p><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><span style="background-color: white;">-----</span></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">Thankfulness Thursday Friends </span><b>♥</b></i></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><b><a href="https://closetonothingblog.blogspot.com/2021/11/thankfulness-thursday-2021.html" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #ea9999;">Keira -- Close to Nothing</span></a></b></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><span style="background-color: white;">-----</span></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Lato; font-size: medium;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);"><i><b>What are you grateful for this week, friend? I'd love to hear. And hey - I'd love for you to join in the Thankfulness Thursday challenge. Be sure to drop a link in the comments if you do - I'd love to share it, and I'd love to see it. </b></i></span></span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato;"><b><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></span><span style="font-size: medium; font-style: italic;">♥ Check out my instagram to see some of the incredible humans joining in over there on my story - I love them all so dearly.</span></b></span></div><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><br /></p>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-32318969987096549412021-10-24T19:07:00.002-04:002021-10-25T00:51:22.753-04:00what is it?<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnTextBlock" style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; color: black; min-width: 100%; orphans: 2; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="mcnTextBlockOuter"><tr><td class="mcnTextBlockInner" style="padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnTextContentContainer" style="border-collapse: collapse; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td class="mcnTextContent" style="line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #202020; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKzV06uBqYFsW6pMKuSfBKp2y9BKGQ0fLPp3spmkdaHbCL2V9PPK-SrLhO9ftMDaPQDXXVmn9PoHkVXXn-zUUTE0kk6rmhhXA46c3r7g1qOpj8fxLBQJiVhK3hBDarG93GlVTQb9CozU/s2048/708EB006-9DE0-4561-BECC-325F7EA1FA8C.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1535" height="724" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKzV06uBqYFsW6pMKuSfBKp2y9BKGQ0fLPp3spmkdaHbCL2V9PPK-SrLhO9ftMDaPQDXXVmn9PoHkVXXn-zUUTE0kk6rmhhXA46c3r7g1qOpj8fxLBQJiVhK3hBDarG93GlVTQb9CozU/w543-h724/708EB006-9DE0-4561-BECC-325F7EA1FA8C.JPG" width="543" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #202020; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hi, friends.</span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's been a minute.</span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-----</span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I had absolutely no intentions of stepping away from this space. I truly didn't. </span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Life got wild, and, well, you know the drill. </span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyways, this is just me slowly trying to make my way back. :-) </span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've still been writing a lot while I've been away - in the <a href="https://blogspot.us20.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=30046a5f14c9a6e864f9ff284&id=3be8444302" target="_blank">Tuesday Letters</a>, over on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/totallygraced/" target="_blank">Insta</a>...basically everywhere *except* for here. Hopefully we're changing that.</span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But before I get into life updates and all of that good stuff, I wanted to give this piece a space to live here on the blog. </span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32);">I shared these words back in July, less than a week before my twenty-first birthday. They're a big chunk of my heart over the past year or so - the good, the bad, and the ugly. It's a piece that means a lot to me, and I thought it deserved a permanent space.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32);">I hope you're all doing so, so well, and that October has been a kind one.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32);">Wishing you clear skies. xx</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32);">-----</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32);"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32);">7.13.21</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>"He rained down manna for the people to eat,<br />He gave them the grain of Heaven."</span><br /><span>- Psalm 78:24</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-----</span></p><br />The sunlight is gentle through my window today.<br /><br />It's been the kind of thunderstormy day that makes up most of the summertime in the south, with two minute downpours that give way to the clearest of skies minutes later. It's quiet now, hazier, and the golden light that normally pours into my bedroom is tinged by the clouds.<br /><br />As I'm sitting here trying to peck out this letter that's probably going to end up far more vulnerable than I'd planned, I'm DMing a friend, asking the question that you probably are, too - how are we already almost halfway through July?<br /><br />Some days feel so slow, and yet the summer is absolutely flying by. I looked at a calendar last night and realized just how soon classes will be starting up, and I think that I've decided that I don't need to look at calendars anymore.<br /><br />Denial is a healthy coping mechanism, right? <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">-----</div><br />The next time that a Tuesday Letter lands in your inbox, I'll be twenty-one.<br /><br />All week, I've found myself thinking about life a year ago - how different it was, in so many ways. How much has stayed the same, both in ways I'm grateful for and in ways that I'd give anything to change. And amidst the mess of it all, in looking back and sorting through the summer that broke my heart, I remember being so completely terrified to turn twenty. <br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#">I wrote about it</a>, as I do most things, so if you were around a year ago, this isn't news to you. But I was so anxious, in a way that was almost paralyzing, because I felt as though I'd hit two decades of life with nothing to show for it. I wasn't where I'd hoped I'd be on my timeline, and I didn't know what to do with that.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">-----</div><br />If I'm being dead honest, twenty has quite possibly been the hardest year of my life. <br /><br />The first six months to the day were a sea of grief, and I've spent the past six trying to figure out where to go from there.<br /><br />My initial anxieties about being twenty - worries about things I hadn't done or made it to - quickly faded to the back of my radar as I became settled in the fact that there was nothing truly momentous about a new decade; each day was another day like any other.<br /><br />But instead I felt so bogged down with the weight of everything in day to day life that I simply wanted to breathe.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">-----</div><br />In the Old Testament, there's a story in which the Israelites wander the desert for forty years. <br /><br />They're searching for the Promised Land, but they can't get there - God won't let them. They were disobedient and didn't trust Him, and so He left them to wander. Without help, all of the Israelites would have died quickly in the barren desert. But six days a week, God rained bread down from the heavens for them to eat - manna. <br /><br />There's a post on Jane Marczewski's blog called <a href="https://www.blogger.com/#">"God is on the Bathroom Floor". </a><br /><br />In the post, Jane, better known as Nightbirde, writes about her relationship with God amidst tragedy. Immense trauma left physical damage to her brain, and she write about the autumn that she spent wrestling with God in the rawest way. </td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnBoxedTextBlock" style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; color: black; min-width: 100%; orphans: 2; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="mcnBoxedTextBlockOuter"><tr><td class="mcnBoxedTextBlockInner" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnBoxedTextContentContainer" style="border-collapse: collapse; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="padding: 9px 18px;"><table border="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnTextContentContainer" style="border-collapse: collapse; border: 2px double rgb(101, 165, 173); min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td class="mcnTextContent" style="color: #222222; line-height: 21px; padding: 18px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 21px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I remind myself," she writes, "that I’m praying to the God who let the Israelites stay lost for decades. They begged to arrive in the Promised Land, but instead He let them wander, answering prayers they didn’t pray. For forty years, their shoes didn’t wear out. Fire lit their path each night. Every morning, He sent them mercy-bread from heaven.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 21px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I look hard for the answers to the prayers that I didn’t pray. I look for the mercy-bread that He promised to bake fresh for me each morning. The Israelites called it <em>manna</em>, which means “what is it?” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 21px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">That’s the same question I’m asking—again, and again. There’s mercy here somewhere—but <em>what is it? What is it? What is it?</em>"</span></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><span>It's the question that I think I've spent the last year asking: what is the mercy here? Where is the good? I </span>know in my brain that You are good, but I look around and ask: where is it? What is it? I find myself feeling like a hypocrite, writing letters and posts and emails in the morning about finding the good, seeing the good, and then turning to my journal the same night and questioning when I'll see it myself.</div><div><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span>But then the post continues, and the words of a woman who's known more pain than I can fathom are a </span></span></span></span></span>balm to my heart.</div><div><div><br /><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnBoxedTextBlock" style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; color: black; min-width: 100%; orphans: 2; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="mcnBoxedTextBlockOuter"><tr><td class="mcnBoxedTextBlockInner" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnBoxedTextContentContainer" style="border-collapse: collapse; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td style="padding: 9px 18px;"><table border="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnTextContentContainer" style="border-collapse: collapse; border: 2px double rgb(101, 165, 173); min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td class="mcnTextContent" style="color: #222222; line-height: 21px; padding: 18px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 21px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I see mercy in the dusty sunlight that outlines the trees, in my mother’s crooked hands, in the blanket my friend left for me, in the harmony of the wind chimes. <strong><u>It’s not the mercy that I asked for, but it <em>is</em> mercy nonetheless</u>. </strong>And I learn a new prayer: <em>thank you.</em> It’s a prayer I don’t mean yet, but will repeat until I do."</span></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnTextBlock" style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; color: black; min-width: 100%; orphans: 2; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="mcnTextBlockOuter"><tr><td class="mcnTextBlockInner" style="padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnTextContentContainer" style="border-collapse: collapse; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td class="mcnTextContent" style="line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><br />When I look back over the last year, over twenty, and I really look at it, I see where the mercy lies all over it. Oh, I spent the year praying for mercy alright, and at first glance, it never came. Those midnight prayers and whispers as I went about the day sometimes feel like nothing more than that - whispers. <b>But mercy was there nonetheless.</b> It's not obvious, not screaming for attention, but it's there, in the grace of a quiet morning with my mother and sunlight on my back porch and the kindness of someone miles away. And no, it wasn't the mercy that I asked for, but since when am I the one to make the call on the mercy that I deserve? Who am I to negate the mercy I've been handed?<br /><br />I spent most of twenty feeling as though the overwhelm of it all would crush me. But that's the thing about manna - you always get exactly as much as you need. God didn't leave the Israelites to starve, and He also didn't give them more than their share. God isn't a God of messy estimates - He gives exactly the portion you need to be handed. <br /><br />And so I'm reminded that despite the chaos, despite the heaviness, I'm still here, in many ways in a place that I couldn't have imagined eight months ago. And there is no ounce of false belief in my mind that I could have managed that alone, that I got myself here. It was all manna.<br /><br /><b>And that's where the prayer comes in: "thank you". </b>The whisper of a prayer that we don't always mean, but repeat until we do. Thank you for grace. Thank you for breath. Thank you for manna, rained down in the portion that we so need, even when it's the furthest thing from what we hoped for or asked for or wanted. <br /><br />It's a daily act - finding the manna in the desert. Recognizing it for what it is when it didn't come in the form that you thought it would, dropping gratitude from your dry lips day after day after day. Because if I'm going to wander, at least I'm not doing it alone.<br /><br />I don't think that twenty will ever be a year that I look back on with fondness. But I also hope that when I think back to these days, I remember the manna - even as it's a daily process of finding it. Maybe it's rarely been what I asked for, maybe it's never been what I asked for. But it's sustenance all the same, because it was never about my plans, anyways, was it?<br /><br />I am here and I have been sustained, and that's the greatest mercy of all.<br /><br />So, here's to twenty-one. I don't have the faintest idea what it will hold in any way - but I know that I will be sustained. And I know that the manna will still be here.<br /><br />And so I whisper "thank you" until I mean it, letting my days become tinged with gratitude like streaks of color in the sky, because there is mercy here.</td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-27026184682087245102021-03-24T16:00:00.003-04:002021-03-24T16:00:27.228-04:00beneath the dirt<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOHeKoNIvR7i4fxGe1acYlsXjIia5z-aFyR9PpYq3ORFsd8NYpqXff4__hk4XJg4d-X125VOaRB7ug7-HCbd-lvCTgU3u5g1v2KgV-TUKMDywVb0F5DgW4KI8kDGVNEdFthfaO4_Al5W8/s2048/IMG_0151+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="706" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOHeKoNIvR7i4fxGe1acYlsXjIia5z-aFyR9PpYq3ORFsd8NYpqXff4__hk4XJg4d-X125VOaRB7ug7-HCbd-lvCTgU3u5g1v2KgV-TUKMDywVb0F5DgW4KI8kDGVNEdFthfaO4_Al5W8/w529-h706/IMG_0151+2.JPG" width="529" /></a></span></div><br /><div>Impatience tugs at my spirit, and I don’t know if it’s aimed at myself or at Him.<br /><br />I’m never doing enough or creating enough or moving quickly enough, and why am I living in this limbo? Why don’t I know where I’ll land?<br /><br />I’m a child thrusting seeds in the dirt only to dig them back up again, clutching them in my muddy palm as I run back to His feet. “Why aren’t they blooming?” I beg, showing Him the seeds as though He didn’t set them in my hand. As if He didn’t send the rain that turned the dirt to mud underneath my fingernails.<br /><br />But He reaches out and curls my fingers into fists, tightening what He’s always urging me to loosen. Guiding me back to my knees to push the seeds beneath the dirt once more.<br /><br />And when the rain comes again, it washes over me, through my hair and down my back, dirt running down my fingertips and leaving me bare. The skin is tender and red and the words I’ve tattooed across my body day after day are gone now.<br /><br />I look to Him and a smile tugs at His lips. He points to the ground where a single sprout pokes up from the dirt I’ve dug up and packed down again day after day.<br /><br />And when He smiles, it’s not filled with the “I-told-you-so” that I deserve. It’s just a smile.<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">_____</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><a class="xil3i" href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/writtentospeak/" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: rgba(var(--fe0,0,55,107),1); font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;" tabindex="0">#writtentospeak</a> writing prompts<span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">: Blooming | Patience | Rain</span></span></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-80878050579512446442021-03-13T18:38:00.001-05:002021-03-13T18:38:25.576-05:00My 2020 Bookshelf - vol. ii<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSFwPr6FKDMXx4zDW7-NWOAYP-qA61wsTcG1RS06MnzHSqimv_AkiuKNQpGETmUAAH3u7byFLb0bjkuZihcT_rQIGTCf1Ue4Z4H1Zy0dIvPpt0d8bWkHpT3KepCfa2hB1H2IHgIcBG8w/s2048/IMG_0157.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSFwPr6FKDMXx4zDW7-NWOAYP-qA61wsTcG1RS06MnzHSqimv_AkiuKNQpGETmUAAH3u7byFLb0bjkuZihcT_rQIGTCf1Ue4Z4H1Zy0dIvPpt0d8bWkHpT3KepCfa2hB1H2IHgIcBG8w/w640-h480/IMG_0157.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Happy March, and welcome to yet another edition of <i>Grace Anne Needs To Catch Up On Life.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>At the end of 2019, I<a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/01/my-2019-bookshelf.html"> did a giant roundup of my favorite reads of the year.</a> And because 2019 was one of my best reading years to date, quantity-wise (how? I have no idea.), it was one heck of a lengthy post. When I hit twenty books read back in July, I decided to split the year into two posts, and <a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/08/my-2020-bookshelf-vol-i.html">volume i </a>went out the first of August. Now seven months later, here we are, back with volume ii. A bit belated in some ways, but book recommendations are always relevant, I think. :-)</div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't hit my goal of 40 books last year, which, in some ways, feels pathetic, seeing as we were essentially on house arrest for months at a time, but it was 2020 - we're going to just throw heaps of grace onto that year and move on, k?</div><div><br /></div><div>So here we are - a few of my favorite finds from the final five months of the craziest year. What memories these books hold.</div><i><div><i><br /></i></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZm6N2mKA2e_W09e-rHSgGzOcdZYYrys1tn9-uWkIC_JezZURvFAPGlnMNMHv85EmmObUP9Dc7yKXKTp3Xqg7-uXNUJha3bCQ3SY69fQwdVGLzycSr2Zu13x7-OupxXedEuGQv2MDu7Kk/s2048/IMG_0156.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZm6N2mKA2e_W09e-rHSgGzOcdZYYrys1tn9-uWkIC_JezZURvFAPGlnMNMHv85EmmObUP9Dc7yKXKTp3Xqg7-uXNUJha3bCQ3SY69fQwdVGLzycSr2Zu13x7-OupxXedEuGQv2MDu7Kk/w480-h640/IMG_0156.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><i><br /></i></div><b>The Fountains of Silence - </b></i><b>Ruta Sepetys</b><div><b><br /></b></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">|| </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-style: italic;">"There is a tension that exists between history and memory, señor. Some of us are desperate to preserve and remember, while others are desperate to forget." </b>||</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I had been hanging on to an ARC of this book for I don't even know how long - I want to say summer or early fall of 2019. Ruta Sepetys is one of my <i>favorite</i> authors, so I was over the moon to get an advanced copy of her book - and then, in typical Grace Anne fashion, I put it off so long because I wanted to keep looking forward to it that I didn't read it until long after it published, a literal year later.</div><div><br /></div><div>Like I said. Typical.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways, one of my best friends and I actually decided to read this one at the same time because we have similar taste in books, and in 2020, we were all getting a little creative when it came to staying connected. Ruta Sepetys's books are great to read with someone else because the chapters are extremely short - sometimes just a page or two - so it's not a huge commitment and you can pace it off of your schedules, and her work is also FILLED with cliffhangers, which makes for great discussion points. :-)</div><div><br /></div><div>I have really mixed feelings on this one, which I hate, because I wanted to love it - and for the most part, I did. But the ENDING. Oh my gracious. Everything was going so well - the book was so well-written, the individual storylines were weaving together in that classic Ruta Sepetys way - and then it kind of just...fell apart. It was the strangest thing - my friend and I both agreed that it was almost as if something happened and someone else wrote the ending. It fell so flat - there were so many ways that I thought the ending could have gone, and it just...didn't. It was disappointing, and again, honestly just super strange.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't want to give the wrong impression - as a whole, the book is masterful. Ruta Sepetys is the queen of intrigue, characterization, and drawing you into a story more vividly than just about anyone. Her writing will forever be some of my favorite, and she peppers the chapters with quotes and excerpts from actual newspapers and letters written during the time of the story in the most poignant way. She sheds light on parts of history that I had no idea existed, and gave me a whole new insight into the history of Spain.</div><div><br /></div><div>So while it was a bit disappointing, it was beautiful all the same.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKJ2mqyX5QhTrm5FbEUOQXqhqb4O1vsH85yI5o33GlM4oMylVn1A57rLr_rxTNERAT7_cdRm8WtRerhYkGipB1gZ8Cg9MlqP7a3j4JeO6EESbevQ_x-b1cFTviXUNCDWe2aUYvh1imcc/s2048/IMG_0155.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKJ2mqyX5QhTrm5FbEUOQXqhqb4O1vsH85yI5o33GlM4oMylVn1A57rLr_rxTNERAT7_cdRm8WtRerhYkGipB1gZ8Cg9MlqP7a3j4JeO6EESbevQ_x-b1cFTviXUNCDWe2aUYvh1imcc/w480-h640/IMG_0155.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Uninvited </i>- Lysa Terkheurst</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24);"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">|| </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">"My heart struggles to make peace between God’s ability to change hard things and His apparent decision not to change them for me." </span></i></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">||</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I couldn't even tell you how long I've had this book on my TBR - years and years now. I tried to read it at one point earlier in the year, but I got a few chapters in and I wasn't connecting with it, so I put it aside.</div><div><br /></div><div>Round two: it definitely, definitely clicked.</div><div><br /></div><div>This book is just filled with so much truth. It was exactly what I needed to read in a season of so much hurt, and I would quite literally throw it into the hands of just about anyone. It's one to keep in your collection - I promise. Even if you don't need it right now, you will. Trust me.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24);">|| </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Rejection—It may be a delay. It may be a distraction. It may even be a devastation for a season but it is not your final destination." </span></i></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24);">||</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>The Book of Lost Names</i> - Kristin Harmel</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24);"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>||<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">"But if we shrink from them, if we lose our goodness, we let them erase us. We cannot do that, Eva. We cannot."</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>||</b></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I can't say that this book was what I expected, but I enjoyed it all the same. If you're looking for a World War II book but would prefer to avoid some of the violence or gore that many depict, this would probably be one of my top recommendations. It's sweet and hopeful, and who doesn't love to read about a female forger? While it did fall a bit flat for me in a way similar to<a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/08/my-2020-bookshelf-vol-i.html"> <i>The Paris Library</i></a>, of the two, I far preferred <i>The Book of Lost Names</i>. The romance is sweet, and it's truly a tale of heroism amidst a world of horror. If it's possible to have a wholesome World War II book, this is it.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>The Four Winds </i>- Kristin Hannah</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">|| </span><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Hope is a coin I carry: an American penny, given to me by a man I came to love. There were times in my journey when it felt as if that penny and the hope it represented were the only things that kept me going... </span></i><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">A man’s got to fight out here to make a living, they’d say to each other. </span></i><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">A man. </span></i><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was always about the men. They seemed to think it meant nothing to cook and clean and bear children and tend gardens. But we women of the Great Plains worked from sunup to sundown, too, toiled on wheat farms until we were as dry and baked as the land we loved.</span></i></b></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">If I close my eyes sometimes, I swear I can still taste the dust..." </span></i><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">||</span></b></p></div><div><br /></div><div>This was my second Kristin Hannah read (I've since read <i>The Nightingale</i>, which will be in a 2021 book wrap-up, but spoiler alert: it's my favorite), and I have to say that it's probably the one that I enjoyed the least. Not to say that it's a bad book - it isn't at all (I don't think Kristin Hannah is capable of writing a bad book, honestly). I stepped into it with pretty high expectations, though, after hearing rave reviews, and I have to admit to being a bit disappointed.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'd never read anything like it - the story takes place in the Dust Bowl, an era that I really knew nothing about. It follows a mother and her two children, trying to survive in a time of immense poverty and hardship. And truly, it had so many things going for it. In classic Kristin Hannah fashion, it was a heartwrenching exploration of female strength and the complex nature of mother/daughter relationships. It's a story of strength and gutwrenching resilience, and Hannah's prose will never fail to knock me off my feet. </div><div><br /></div><div>But the ENDING.</div><div><br /></div><div>If I'm being honest, this is my biggest beef with Kristin Hannah in general, but it particularly came to a head in <i>The Four Winds</i>. The nature of most of her work (at least what I've read of it) is that it centers around survival, and sometimes I think she can go a bit far with it. I know that times like this were filled with tragedy after tragedy and trauma after trauma, and maybe this year has lessened my capacity for reading of tragedy, but this book in particular was a lot. But even that I could have dealt with. What really drives me a little mad is that the Kristin Hannah formula <i>always </i>has to include a melodramatic shock loss at the veery end of the story, in what feels like just an attempt to decimate the heartstrings of the reader one final time. I can deal with that kind of thing when it feels natural to the plot - and in some of her work, it does - but in <i>The Four Winds, </i>it felt like it was just thrown in as a "Oh, I need to make them cry one last time". I am all for sad stories when there's a purpose, but it bugs me when authors throw something horribly sad in just...because it's sad, and that's what this felt like to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>A gorgeously-written work, no question, but not one that I would read again.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbf69luEBGJ5_ObBk6rbFvAFeZqmPG5CWBSYytdyWpKC3lH7w5eC5NOU3anddFPAzBFWH06JbGw2oKDhyL3D6w1tltvPzbtI182xKV_uMd4QkPUbm5TJ89cxYguwdVtNDfg5eZOKA5dU/s1248/3D9D88D8-A1DF-40EC-A644-EEDCEDD56C02.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1248" data-original-width="747" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbf69luEBGJ5_ObBk6rbFvAFeZqmPG5CWBSYytdyWpKC3lH7w5eC5NOU3anddFPAzBFWH06JbGw2oKDhyL3D6w1tltvPzbtI182xKV_uMd4QkPUbm5TJ89cxYguwdVtNDfg5eZOKA5dU/w384-h640/3D9D88D8-A1DF-40EC-A644-EEDCEDD56C02.JPG" width="384" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Blackmoore </i>- Julianne Donaldson</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">|| </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24);"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I think the most profound beauty is found in what our hearts love." </span></i></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">||</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I finally checked this one off my TBR while we were at the beach after hearing my sister rave about it for I don't even know how many years, and I am <i>so</i> glad that I did. <span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(111, 111, 111);">Intriguing, thoughtful, and romantic, I loved the story of </span><em style="caret-color: rgb(111, 111, 111); direction: ltr;">Blackmoore</em><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(111, 111, 111);">. Desperate to get away from a life that feels completely caged and the boy who can never be hers, Kate is forced to secure - and reject - three marriage proposals to win her freedom. But is the price worth the reward? </span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(111, 111, 111);"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(111, 111, 111);">The characters were reminiscent of an Austen book, with a Jane-Eyre atmosphere and aesthetic, and a romance that's in a class of its own. It</span></span> combined so many things that I love into one. I adored the concept, and even if I wanted to strangle the main character for her obliviousness for the majority of the book, I truly couldn't put it down. The one disappointment was the ending - after being incredibly strong the whole time, I felt that the last few chapters were really weak, which was a letdown - I wish that it had done justice to the rest of the book. Still, I love the book as a whole, so I just kind of pretend the ending was better than it was, y'know? :-)</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUfwmZoMLg6VDn7WQeocBn8BGWy32M7KSOhf9ndHFdIRrDapFxf5SGNrnG701xg22aH0xKMV58R7t62X45PEx2hXR3NzqNqYWhQFTuncHUi0_dejuYkFc8jIA_N9leCH_XkIjTMzd7FY/s2048/IMG_8713.JPG"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUfwmZoMLg6VDn7WQeocBn8BGWy32M7KSOhf9ndHFdIRrDapFxf5SGNrnG701xg22aH0xKMV58R7t62X45PEx2hXR3NzqNqYWhQFTuncHUi0_dejuYkFc8jIA_N9leCH_XkIjTMzd7FY/w480-h640/IMG_8713.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>A Thousand Perfect Notes </i>- C.G. Drews</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">|| </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"<span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24);">You are worth more than a thousand perfect notes." </span></i></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">||</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I've followed <a href="https://paperfury.com">Cait's blog</a> since my baby blogging days, so I was THRILLED when <a href="https://losingthebusyness.wordpress.com">Hanne</a> gave me a copy of her debut for my birthday! It broke my heart, but oh, it was good. It's definitely a heavy read - it's a story of abuse, and it's incredibly vivid - if you're a highly empathetic person, this book will completely break you. But it's so, so well done - it dives into trying to find who you are when you've grown up in trauma, and the many ways the drive for perfection can manifest, and the painful cycle that takes place when your abuse comes from the person you most want to love. It's startling realistic and yet decidedly hopeful. The characters are memorable and leave you just wanting to give them a hug. It's not an easy book, but it is a quick read, and a very good one.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7figdq-f4Iq-tAZpJwLAfqwYob6zU94hH63DCV-TsYlmeVxjQf1DFTbcrZTib_hAw_Eipnw9JK386Esu2PnGZy-TY4xdYguDRLVU2Ei8SVRN-SSdTCv6azYvzOih-c-US8S6T_tbd7o/s2048/0F12EDD8-F770-4885-96DC-ECEA19708EA1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7figdq-f4Iq-tAZpJwLAfqwYob6zU94hH63DCV-TsYlmeVxjQf1DFTbcrZTib_hAw_Eipnw9JK386Esu2PnGZy-TY4xdYguDRLVU2Ei8SVRN-SSdTCv6azYvzOih-c-US8S6T_tbd7o/w300-h400/0F12EDD8-F770-4885-96DC-ECEA19708EA1.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Code Name Hélène </i>- Ariel Lawhon</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">|| </span><i>"War is too important to be left to the generals." </i><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); text-align: left;">||</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>This was, without a doubt, my favorite book of the year. Ariel Lawhon was my best literary discovery of 2020 (in my <a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/08/my-2020-bookshelf-vol-i.html">volume i post</a>, I talk about how much I loved the first book that I read of hers, <i>I Was Anastasia</i>), and I fell so utterly in love with <i>Code Name </i><i>Hélène</i>. I already know that this review won't even come close to doing it justice, but I've got to try. :-)</div></div><div><br /></div><div>First off - <b>it's a true story.</b> Don't Google her until you've read the book, because trust me - you want to enjoy this one for all it's worth - but <i>Code Name </i><i>Hélène </i>tells the story of the very real Nancy Wake. I kid you not, the second that I shut this book, I was on my phone Googling Nancy. She was such a fascinating, spunky, intelligent woman, and the amount of detail that Lawhon was able to include and the truly vivacious life that she breathed into every page is exceptional.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of my favorite parts of the book is the timeline in which it's told. If you've read any of Lawhon's books before, you know that she likes to use nonlinear timelines, which add this incredible level of nuance and depth and suspense to the story. For <i>Code Name </i><i>Hélène, </i>she used four different perspectives - the four names and codenames that Nancy went by over the years. Each name is representative of a different point in time, and I loved the way that she wove everything together. </div><div><br /></div><div>I could tell you a thousand things about this book that I loved, but my true favorite part was simply Nancy herself. She was fierce and funny, and held her own in a world dominated by men. So often in WWII fiction, I think that women can almost become a caricature, but Nancy was dimensional and layered and so incredibly real. She was full of grit and could battle plan with the best of them, but never lost her compassion - never ceasing to become physically sick with the grief of what she would witness. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty, and knew that lipstick was both a comfort and a tool. She cursed like a sailor while loving the men fighting by her side with everything she had. I love the endless layers that Lawhon gave her, a clear testament to her research. I love that she was stubborn and kind and intelligent and sexual and tactical and decisive, all at once. Nancy Wake - a beautiful fighter who makes me proud to be a woman.</div><div><br /></div><div>This book is definitely a heavy one - it's without a doubt one of the most graphic WWII books that I've read. There are a couple of descriptive torture scenes, so I do want to give you that heads up going in. (If you don't handle that kind of thing well but still want to read the book, shoot me a message and I can give you the page numbers!) I'd be lying to say that it's not breathtakingly sad, and I may or may not have been on the verge of throwing the book across the beach at one particular point (Trust me, when you get there...you'll know.) But it's a truly brilliant work about a truly brilliant woman, and I can't recommend it enough.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">-----</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm six books into 2021, and according to my Goodreads, I need to pick up the pace, because I'm apparently two books behind. :-) I just finished <i>Seeing Voices </i>by Olivia Smit yesterday, and am currently in the middle of reading <i>The Ministry of Ordinary Places </i>with <a href="https://losingthebusyness.wordpress.com">Hanne</a>. Next up on my TBR, I'm hoping to tackle <i>The Night Road, Out of the Easy </i>(a reread), and hopefully will finally get back to <i>The Great Gatsby</i>!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><i>What about you? What are you reading these days? What's on your TBR? I'm always down for suggestions (as if I really need them - my TBR is probably going to fall on top of me any day now.) Have you read any of my recent picks? Let's have allllll the bookish chats in the comments below! </i></b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;">♥</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-43986195331431636282021-02-27T18:05:00.002-05:002021-06-11T17:41:54.430-04:00field notes // vol. i<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksnXdkbkMbg52xY2PF9r58NE2oj7NwWba4YD-yWhejWyxs6ZIudkL9Tm0VAkEgJkP7dz0VRvAMCj3lHHNoypgcwIzgnj0_q4XBc79dB-oivdA1k2Jf9ej17xehX7twpME5hBvZKFjFaA/s2048/IMG_4432.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksnXdkbkMbg52xY2PF9r58NE2oj7NwWba4YD-yWhejWyxs6ZIudkL9Tm0VAkEgJkP7dz0VRvAMCj3lHHNoypgcwIzgnj0_q4XBc79dB-oivdA1k2Jf9ej17xehX7twpME5hBvZKFjFaA/s16000/IMG_4432.JPG" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">If I'm being honest, half of the reason that I love blogging so much is because it's one of my favorite ways of remembering - what life was like in a certain season, what I was thinking, what mattered at the time. Last year, amidst the chaos of it all, I had a series called <a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/search/label/Quarantine%20Diaries">The Quarantine Diaries</a>, and now, almost a year later, I'm so glad that I have those to look back on. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Stepping into the new year, I want to keep those kind of posts alive on here, albeit with a new name, courtesy of my creative lifeboat, <a href="https://closetonothingblog.blogspot.com">Keira</a>. I don't have any sort of timetable for them - I suppose they'll just come whenever I have enough "new" to share to warrant popping into your inboxes. :-)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">If I'm <i>also </i>being honest, I should disclaimer this post with the fact that this has been sitting in my drafts folder for a month now. I kept adding to it and editing to it, forgetting and then coming back and forgetting again. I feel like I always have *one task* that slips through the cracks at any given point, and for the past month, this post has been that task. So, I apologize if anything seems off, timeline-wise - it's been written at many different points. :-)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's been a while since I've truly caught you all up on here as to what life's like as of late - which, if you follow me on social media, you hear much more about the day-to-day, anyways, so it doesn't truly matter - but either way, today's just about playing a bit of catch-up. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3FJawQIRhWfAN46kbpYZLyWI2_gQe-XbKuyXJ_Lcl6DHR88ea4f9l1CxQ5niI1ZqNC7EUWpWFwezENmIqw4EsFq1OzsQY0nNVp0Sqvsqp3x3nCrg51ds6qCgtGNdzTXREn74jtwdRV0/s1024/IMG_8343.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3FJawQIRhWfAN46kbpYZLyWI2_gQe-XbKuyXJ_Lcl6DHR88ea4f9l1CxQ5niI1ZqNC7EUWpWFwezENmIqw4EsFq1OzsQY0nNVp0Sqvsqp3x3nCrg51ds6qCgtGNdzTXREn74jtwdRV0/w480-h640/IMG_8343.JPG" width="480" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">We made it to 2021, and I think that we all breathed a collective sigh of relief, if even just to no longer have to say "2020" anymore. The holidays were quiet around here in the best way possible, for which I was immensely grateful. We quarantined in order to be able to spend the Christmas season with my grandparents, and it was so, so nice to be able to cook and bake and celebrate with them. We rang in the new year at home, with Taylor Swift music and cookie cake and a giant jigsaw puzzle, and it was the best way to say goodbye to a crazy, crazy year. </span><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I first began writing these words for you all on January 30th - one month down. I've never in my life had a January this quiet, but I wouldn't say that's entirely a bad thing. I'm wearing a million different hats this semester, but the world feels still all the same. I think that in some ways it's a comparative thing - last semester was without a doubt the most brutal academic semester I've ever had, so the calm of the semester feels a little extra striking. I made the mistake last semester of taking all of my heaviest classes at once, but it was a bit of a blessing in that this semester is shocking in its lack of academic projects, despite taking 18.5 credits. I finally feel like I can breathe, which I don't entirely know what to do with, if I'm being honest. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNXRq2fEfhcEx-PtcTyIRO3Zfqqxvzz7tOP0Hpx0MnwiCyJM6V2fFHL2IvhIXFTUXzVu_ENG1QeJyIynS18zUsnov_fViDUugR3OKW-rKbCDn9g5KaCEMDByyqbyhj7Srp-tR_Afc2Vc/s1024/IMG_8342.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNXRq2fEfhcEx-PtcTyIRO3Zfqqxvzz7tOP0Hpx0MnwiCyJM6V2fFHL2IvhIXFTUXzVu_ENG1QeJyIynS18zUsnov_fViDUugR3OKW-rKbCDn9g5KaCEMDByyqbyhj7Srp-tR_Afc2Vc/w480-h640/IMG_8342.JPG" width="480" /></span></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm still doing school completely online, which, again, I'm incredibly grateful for. It's such a better fit for me than in-person was; I'm so much happier. I'm working a lot - still working for the bookstore and doing some choreography work, in addition to a new job that I've taken on with my university, and a web design internship. Some days feel like a major juggling act, but I feel like I've landed in a routine with it all. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Whereas January felt long and slow, February has flown by. I can't believe that we're three weeks in, that we're nearly at The Month That Must Not Be Named (lol). It hasn't been unduly hectic or chaotic, but it's felt busier. My kids had their first show this past weekend, so that was a big project that got checked off the list. Other than that, nothing too out of the ordinary has taken place. The highlight of the month so far was definitely getting to go to a White Christmas museum exhibit - they had all of these costumes and set pieces and momentos from the movie, and let me tell you - I was in <i>heaven</i>. White Christmas is one of the pieces of art that I hold closest to my heart, so to see so much of it in person was incredible.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-r1gN7ScGc4PtmyVePZAdwWYDjROq32sST4uCGPavWGBmhnhPNR9RXUZFnzsE7n1NY8oIoBNIzdZLIf2CzyHategochFxvkigg0NlzaIJP5seF9hnuOnVdnsFxNPPSeSd18RqWE6Tllc/s2048/8E5FBBF1-1A91-45C3-A9F7-58BD1051C763.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-r1gN7ScGc4PtmyVePZAdwWYDjROq32sST4uCGPavWGBmhnhPNR9RXUZFnzsE7n1NY8oIoBNIzdZLIf2CzyHategochFxvkigg0NlzaIJP5seF9hnuOnVdnsFxNPPSeSd18RqWE6Tllc/w640-h480/8E5FBBF1-1A91-45C3-A9F7-58BD1051C763.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I could have CRIED I tell you</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMv80ljOsIZ_C1lYL7E73XikWmxT_k535zXM8V9bIhuSr9VBaRB6UVjmJp2KIbosUYzNKH_mE2Ok6GFcbcJCTt3pSnKncJ0PBnzltDZbqdh6g66dtlqwzMjji2N5SxuXEo7F84FnR6TAc/s2048/21C122C4-94A8-4B0B-8434-CEF54FBB4771.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMv80ljOsIZ_C1lYL7E73XikWmxT_k535zXM8V9bIhuSr9VBaRB6UVjmJp2KIbosUYzNKH_mE2Ok6GFcbcJCTt3pSnKncJ0PBnzltDZbqdh6g66dtlqwzMjji2N5SxuXEo7F84FnR6TAc/w480-h640/21C122C4-94A8-4B0B-8434-CEF54FBB4771.JPG" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />For as long as I can remember, I've always said that my goal is to have a sign just like this as a part of my own Christmas decorations one day. I cannot even deal with how happy I was.<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">For the first time in what feels like forever, I've found myself wanting to write again. It's something that I've always tried to keep up - half of the reason that I started <a href="https://blogspot.us20.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=30046a5f14c9a6e864f9ff284&id=3be8444302">The Tuesday Letters</a> initially was as a form of discipline for myself, and I've hopped on a couple of poetry challenges on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/totallygraced/">Instagram</a> over the past year. But mid-January, late on a Monday night, I found myself curled up on the couch writing the longest poem that I've ever written. And then a few days later, I started writing a novel. A completely new novel, one I dreamed up in November but had yet to put to the page. Writing again feels weird and scary and wonderful all at once, and I really don't know what else to say on the topic except that I'm giving it a shot, and that in a small way, it feels like coming home. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtT7nJ5PYpntThL15lbQSfOewMfY8KSds80ogNaEj9VG7Da7PHBIe3iI3u6qQlikPWE2-fhYhbpAQDJVjrOCIV2Ckuy1Yruge3eTO_W-gC-ErAx4G65GHO9eG3GPNkN9nOw8naWakdmrc/s1758/IMG_0125.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1758" data-original-width="1528" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtT7nJ5PYpntThL15lbQSfOewMfY8KSds80ogNaEj9VG7Da7PHBIe3iI3u6qQlikPWE2-fhYhbpAQDJVjrOCIV2Ckuy1Yruge3eTO_W-gC-ErAx4G65GHO9eG3GPNkN9nOw8naWakdmrc/w556-h640/IMG_0125.jpg" width="556" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">In general these days, I just keep finding myself feeling creative in a way that I haven't in a long, long time. Typically, I like to have a project or two that I'm super honed in on, and work like a madwoman on those specific things. But lately, I feel like I just have idea after idea, and I don't quite know how to condense it and rein it all in and actually make something come of it. It feels so out of character for me, but it's not a bad thing, I suppose. Here's hoping that the next few weeks of life brings a bit of creative clarity with it, eh? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, that's life these days. It's a little quieter. I'm reading more, and writing letters more often. I never made a great list of new year's resolutions, which is still bugging me a bit. I need to do some goal setting to make myself feel a little more sane, I think. I'm trying new things, and my brain is still a mess more often than not, and I still probably don't drink enough water. But we're here, and we're okay. I'm not where I was a year ago, and even though I find myself desperately wishing I were more often than not, maybe here is okay, too. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-----</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">d o i n g:</span></b></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- I've wanted to learn how to macrame <i>forever</i>, and I finally taught myself some basics over Christmas break. I'm still trying to get the hang of it and there have been a couple of disasters along the way, but I made my sister a plant hanger that didn't turn out half bad, so I'm calling that progress. :-)</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- not enough design work - I haven't touched any graphic projects since finishing up with December's <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CICQgzjATDJ/" target="_blank">commissions</a>, and I miss it. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- lots of knitting! I love knitting, especially in the wintertime, but it's one of those things that I always forget about or don't let myself take the time to do. Lately I've been letting myself tackle a few small projects, and it's been my favorite thing to look forward to at the end of the day. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- I've been writing <i>so </i>much snail mail over the past few months, and it's been one of my favorite parts of the year so far. I spent days making Valentine's, and even if some of them got out a bit late (oops), it was a lot of fun. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- I got some organizational cubbies that I'd been wanting for ages, and it was SO SATISFYING to do some organizing. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- If you follow me on socials, you know that I've been having way too much fun obsessing over Taylor Swift conspiracy theories with <a href="https://losingthebusyness.wordpress.com">Hanne</a>. Listen, we can't help it that every single thing she does is somehow laced with meaning, okay? It's like playing detectives, and enneagram sixes love a good mystery. :-)</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">w a t c h i n g:</span></b></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- we finally finished Frasier in January, after working through it for heaven only knows how long. I definitely should not get as nostalgic about finishing shows as I do, but here we are.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- we also started watching Frasier's predecessor, Cheers, a while back, and it's been a fun show to watch when we just want something light and funny.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- speaking of finishing things, I also finished Madam Secretary this fall! It feels like a while ago now, but since it made many an appearance in my Quarantine Diaries posts, I feel like it should receive the proper closure. :-) Definitely one of the best pieces of art that I became acquainted with in 2020- forever in your debt, Keira!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- Runaway Bride was an impulse watch, but a good one. If there's anything that you can count on in life, it's Garry Marshall movies.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- we tried watching Dawson's Creek, and while I don't think it's one we'll be revisiting, it made for an absolutely hilarious girl's night in.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- I'm very, very tempted to get into Bridgerton, which may or may not be mainly due to the musical that Emily Bear and Abigail Barlow are creating. Thoughts? (Edit: As we all know, this post has been in the works for a WHILE, and I have since given in and started Bridgerton. I haven't finished it, and I cannot <i>possibly</i> recommend it because the content is A Lot, but I adore the aesthetic and the drama of it all.)</span></p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4h8C6CTPOzj_EZfMwyVeydujHR4ruVCzxZSoEVrthJrNoJQCNoCQ91IohKn8uhzx3aziw-vd-b-1L1rwzP0LTWugu29vxgmUs9Gp6T_Sx0mXrROkIuWl4TcSSfrF3XvbEeW-aZCAjqcg/s1138/090B7DCB-648D-4507-AFBB-E33ABE3F2C13.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1138" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4h8C6CTPOzj_EZfMwyVeydujHR4ruVCzxZSoEVrthJrNoJQCNoCQ91IohKn8uhzx3aziw-vd-b-1L1rwzP0LTWugu29vxgmUs9Gp6T_Sx0mXrROkIuWl4TcSSfrF3XvbEeW-aZCAjqcg/w422-h640/090B7DCB-648D-4507-AFBB-E33ABE3F2C13.JPG" width="422" /></span></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">r e a d i n g:</span></b></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm going to toss in some of what I've read since my last Quarantine Diaries post, but I'm still planning to get a 2020 Bookshelf post up soon! I'll try to remember to link it here when I do. :-) <a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2021/03/my-2020-bookshelf-vol-ii.html" target="_blank">(read it here!)</a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- <i>A Thousand Perfect Notes </i>by C.G. Drews. I'd wanted to read this for ages, so I was thrilled when my dear friend <a href="https://losingthebusyness.wordpress.com">Hanne</a> gave me a copy for my birthday! It was heartbreaking and beautiful all at once, and I'm excited to dive into Cait's next book sometime soon! (I gave my sister a copy for her birthday, but let's be honest...it was a gift for me, too :-) )</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- <i>Code Name Hélène </i>by Ariel Lawhon. Ariel Lawhon is, without a doubt, my favorite author that I discovered in 2020. Her work floors me - the way that she structures her stories is brilliant, and she really makes you fall in love with the characters. I couldn't get enough of this book, and it was made even better by the fact that it's a true story! 10/10 recommend - read this book!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-<i> The Nightingale </i>by Kristin Hannah. My first read of 2021, a Keira recommendation. You know how much I love my WWII fiction, and this one didn't disappoint. The character work was breathtaking. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- <i>Fighting Forward </i>by Hannah Brencher. I was SO excited when Hannah announced her new book, and its release was definitely a highlight of my month. Hannah's words are filled with so much truth + hope, and I couldn't love her writing more. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- <i style="color: #333333; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;"><a class="gr-book__titleLink gr-hyperlink gr-hyperlink--naked" data-reactid=".ln6u86hvk0.0.1.$=1$55873089.1.1.0" data-tracking-dfp="true" data-tracking-pmet="{"click_type":"book_title"}" href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55873089-radha-jai-s-recipe-for-romance" style="color: #333333; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">Radha & Jai's Recipe for Romance</a> </i><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">by Nisha Sharma was a work read that I enjoyed. It actually doesn't release until this July, but my boss sends dance-related ARCs my way, and I was pleasantly surprised by this one. I learned a lot about Indian dance culture, and the characters are so sweet. The book itself is well-written, and I was glad that I gave it a try!</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">- <i>In The Event This Doesn't Fall Apart </i>by Shannon Lee Barry. I've been following Shannon's writing on Instagram for ages now, so when she gave ebooks of her new poetry book away for free on Valentine's Day, there was no possible way I was going to miss out. </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(24, 24, 24); color: #181818; font-size: 14px;">Shannon writes about people so beautifully - she sees their nuances and quirks and paints them in your mind's eye with so much love. Her writing is whimsical and magical and filled with hope, and I love it dearly.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- As far as Bible reading goes, I've really just been skipping around lately...lots of Psalms/Proverbs, as well as Isaiah. I'm in desperate need of an actual plan! Here's to hopefully getting more disciplined with that.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- On Instagram, I've been loving <a href="https://www.instagram.com/resurrectionpoetry/">@resurrectionpoetry</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/gracewritesthings_/">@gracewritesthings_</a> 's work!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- <a href="http://www.joanneamarisa.blog/2021/02/you-will-have-time-for-all-these-things.html" target="_blank">"You Will Have Time For All These Things</a>" from <i>with risa. </i>Joanne is one of my favorite bloggers, and this post was filled with so much that I needed to hear. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- <a href="https://scatteredjournalpages.com/2020/11/13/if-youre-struggling-to-hold-onto-hope-this-ones-for-you/" target="_blank">This</a> and <a href="https://scatteredjournalpages.com/2020/10/14/a-god-of-good-gifts-read-this-when-youre-missing-the-way-things-used-to-be/">this</a> - in all honesty, I would tell you to read every word that Amanda Beguerie ever writes. But these are a good starting point. :-)</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>l i</b><b> s t e n i n g:</b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- If you follow me on social media (shameless plug: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/totallygraced/">insta</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/Totally_Graced">twitter</a>), you already know that Evermore was the album of my December. Merry Christmas to us all, indeed. :-)</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- Also, the era of Taylor re-releases has begun, and I am so incredibly here for it.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- lots of dodie, once again thanks to <a href="https://losingthebusyness.wordpress.com">Hanne</a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- Lizzy McAlpine + Jon Bellion + John Mayer forever</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- now that I'm doing school online and spending SO MUCH LESS time in my car, I've kind of gotten out of the routine of listening to podcasts, but a friend of mine recommended the <a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/3DgfoleqaW61T2amZQKINx?si=uMiUDlGxRo229xu234Q7qA">Crime Junkie</a> podcast to me, and I'm slowly getting hooked. If you're a true crime fan, it's so good. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- One of my goals for myself for this year is to become better at organizing my music into playlists. My Spotify is still a bit of a disaster (or, as I like to call it, a work in progress), but <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5RejnvEZHCj4yqI9XV96DG?si=deY06eDjTgGao6KpWlDmUQ">I made this playlist </a>to step into 2021, and I kind of love it. I asked you all on Instagram to send me your favorite songs that reminded you of hope, added a few favorites of my own, and the final product has definitely been on repeat. We all need a little extra hope stepping into the new year, I think, and what better way to remind yourself?</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><iframe allow="encrypted-media" allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="380" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/5RejnvEZHCj4yqI9XV96DG" width="300"></iframe></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">other notable songs from the past month and a half:</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- all of <a href="https://www.barlowandbear.com">Bridgerton the Musical</a> by Abigail Barlow and Emily Bear. (When I tell you that these girls are BRILLIANT oh my goodness)</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- Place We Were Made // Maisie Peters (Hailey, are you proud??)</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- Come Back Home // Lauren Daigle (A rec from one of my sweet elementary girls!!)</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- Praying for Sunshine // Cody Fry</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- Friday I'm In Love // Phoebe Bridgers</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- U Suck // Emily Bear (When she released this on Valentine's Day, I literally just left it on repeat for <i>ages</i>. Such a fun song!)</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">m o m e n t s:</span></b></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- a girl that I've been teaching since I was fifteen painted the most beautiful box for me as a Christmas gift, and when I tell you I was a PUDDLE oh my goodness. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- reading by the Christmas tree well into January</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- car jams with Mama J</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- golden </span>sunlight<span style="font-family: inherit;"> through my windows in the afternoons</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- dancing with my kiddos</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- getting the absolute most PRECIOUS Valentine I have ever received in the mail from <a href="https://haileyhudson.wordpress.com">Hailey</a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- having fresh flowers in the house</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">-----</span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">How's life treating you these days, friends? I've missed this space. Hoping that your weekend is a lovely one. xx</span></b></i></p><br />Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-23430100980564526042020-12-29T16:39:00.000-05:002020-12-29T16:39:04.138-05:00the weary world rejoices || 12.21.20<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0j_loQAT5oSt2bv1tFoNGXsjRPcxlsdNGf_3Eok68zeyiJbxZD2XzKwOh7NT-x_3BnQwjtf9f9jDWzzoqscKXjSZHpEAGIs02dqkUy3uBoISZ9eUloATo14nnRBCe4X2dThYXnpD2bDc/s2048/IMG_0201.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0j_loQAT5oSt2bv1tFoNGXsjRPcxlsdNGf_3Eok68zeyiJbxZD2XzKwOh7NT-x_3BnQwjtf9f9jDWzzoqscKXjSZHpEAGIs02dqkUy3uBoISZ9eUloATo14nnRBCe4X2dThYXnpD2bDc/w640-h360/IMG_0201.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div></span></span><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">This year, I think we've all found ourselves praying for light.</span><br /></span><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's been a year uniquely marked by darkness, to the point where I think that in the sheer magnitude of the year, it's become difficult to know what exactly to pray for. So, more often than not, I've found myself just praying for <em>something </em>good. For any stray bit of light to pierce through the mess of it all.</span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And if I'm being honest - it's a prayer that hasn't always felt answered. The months have dragged on and things haven't gotten any better and suddenly we're nearing the end of this chaotic tangle of a year, the holidays are here, and I'm still a little shell-shocked from it all.</span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The world is heavy, and burnout is as prevalent as peppermint these days, but when I look out my window at night, I still see Christmas lights. Carols play on the radio, and churches tell the tale of a virgin who gave birth to a miracle. </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Despite it all, the weary world rejoices.</span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-----</span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Every year during the holidays, I always seem to find myself with a single song lyric running through my brain on repeat, a pattern that's kind of fun to look back on when I scroll through old Christmas musings. Those four little words have been this year's refrain as I stumble through the season, in all of its strange, sacred simplicity.</span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't think I've ever felt as detached stepping into the holiday season as I did this year. It's one of my favorite parts of the whole year, a season of warmth and life, one of the holiest times of the year. And yet it was as though I couldn't wake myself up to it, like my brain knew it mattered but I couldn't make it click. I was excited for the season, excited for traditions and rest and family, but rejoicing felt so far away.</span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've been going through Hannah Brencher's Advent study, and was reminded of something that I read last year - that the first prophesy of Jesus's birth came at a time of massive darkness in Israel. The people had once again turned from God, and their world was a chaotic mess.</span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sound familiar?</span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Yet right in the middle of the chaos, God sent them a promise of hope. The promise of a light that would come to illuminate the darkness. It didn't come in their lifetime - it didn't come for another 700 years, in fact. But it came, and it changed the world forever. <strong>He </strong>changed the world forever.</span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">----- </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I'm writing these words, it's Monday, December 21st. Today is the winter solstice - the first day of winter, and the darkest day of the year. The days have been growing shorter and shorter since June, culminating today, the shortest day of the year. Light showed up late and went down early, and as I'm pecking away at my keyboard, all that I can see when I try to look out my window is darkness. </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Today also marked the appearance of what many people are referring to as "The Star of Bethlehem". Jupiter and Saturn met in the night sky in what looks like a brilliant, beautiful star, a sight that hasn't been seen in around 800 years. Some people call it the Christmas star, saying it might be similar to the star that the Magi saw, the star that led them to their Savior. </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A little after sundown, while the soup still simmered on the stove, my mom and I bundled up and trekked up the hilly streets of our neighborhood to get a look at this star. And as we walked, I couldn't help but be struck by the fact that here we were, the week of Christmas, on the darkest day of what has been the darkest year of many people's lives, heading through the cool night air to catch a glimpse of the light. That of all days for this star to appear, of all years, it was tonight. </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It wasn't at all what I had in mind when I prayed for light time and time again. But there it was, a speck in the night sky above me, laced with color and shining clear as could be. And I couldn't help but think that it was a promise, this light piercing the dark. That it was a reminder that hope holds true yet. </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's like they say in the song - a thrill of hope. You know the feeling - a butterfly flutter in your chest that maybe there's more. Maybe there's better. Maybe it's almost here. </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Over 2000 years ago, we were given the greatest hope of all. And that hope is something that no circumstance, no year, no darkness can ever triumph. </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This year has left me weary, but I want to be rejoicing all the same, because my God is still on His throne. And maybe this season is different. Maybe we're different, because seasons of challenge do that to us. They change us. They grow us and shape us and shift us, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worst. </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But I want to rejoice in the chaos because I know that He is still good. I want to be able to look back at this year and say, "I can count my bruises, but I can also count the goodness of my Father." </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't know what the holidays hold for you this year. I know that things are probably different, and I know that's never easy. But I also know that on the darkest night of the darkest year, the sky was pierced by a light, and I have to hope that light is going to pierce our darkness, too. </span></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So we sing, and we share, and we sit by the fire. And with all of the weariness in our bones, we rejoice, because light has still won. He has still come. And His hope will never fail. </span></p></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-16926023837858214002020-11-26T13:25:00.002-05:002020-11-26T13:25:57.065-05:00Thankfulness Thursday IV - Happy Thanksgiving! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuDtLXyS3PqggOJM-Xz2e7bhg_Odi-BnoHB9Mn1rHUDkQpoOetnyQuXStLVgjZnrmlhBXnsIrjSmoUFI0_hupi5mPHS67nS0QLmbXqnX2FbdR4lYOZ29RKcjoKAwaeKJ5pMvIVQZYdKoo/s1600/WCJ_0074-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1649" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuDtLXyS3PqggOJM-Xz2e7bhg_Odi-BnoHB9Mn1rHUDkQpoOetnyQuXStLVgjZnrmlhBXnsIrjSmoUFI0_hupi5mPHS67nS0QLmbXqnX2FbdR4lYOZ29RKcjoKAwaeKJ5pMvIVQZYdKoo/w517-h640/WCJ_0074-2.jpg" width="517" /></a></div><br /><p>Happy Thanksgiving, friends! <span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><b>♥</b></span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">We all know that today's a weird one, but I so hope that you're able to hold on to as many pieces of "normal" today as possible. I don't think anyone is having a completely normal day, but I hope that yours is still special. That it's still warm. That you find moments of joy. </p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">It's a quiet one over here, quieter than usual, but still good. As I'm writing this, we're curled up at home with the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. We'll do lunch at home, and then this afternoon we're going over to my grandparents' for social-distanced dessert. :-) Trying to find the balance of traditions + safety is always tricky, but hey - we're all figuring it out together these days, eh? </p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">Over the past month or so, I've been on a major <i>Come From Away </i>kick. The show itself tells an often untold story of 9/11 - of the planes that were forced to land in Gander, Newfoundland and the relationships and connections that stemmed from that tragedy between the Newfoundlanders and "the plane people". There's a refrain throughout the show that has been running through my mind over and over again lately - </p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;"><br /></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;"><i>"You are here, at the start of a moment, on the edge of the world,</i></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;"><i>where the river meets the sea.</i></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;"><i>Here, on the edge of the Atlantic, on an island in between</i></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;"><i>there and here."</i></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;"><i><br /></i></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">At this point in the story, everyone from the emergency-landed planes is stuck on this tiny island in the middle of nowhere, many of them with no idea what's happening back home or if their families are okay. They're just stuck, not knowing what's going to happen next or what life will look like when their world starts spinning again. </p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">And to me, that's been the perfect picture of how this whole year has felt. Stuck on an isolated island, staring out from the edge of the world hovered between two points in a tangled-up liminal space of sorts. How do you navigate a point on the map that you can't locate - not really feeling as though you're here or there or anywhere? The old is a distant memory, the next step feels light years away, and you don't know where "here" is. </p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;"><b>This year more than ever, I'm trying to learn how to land on gratitude in the middle of the in-between</b>. 2020 isn't one that I would say I'm necessarily thankful for, and I don't know if you would, either. But I'm trying to find the gifts in the mess. In the middle of the pain, I'm trying to find the good. </p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">In a year that's shattered anything that I would have hoped for it to look like, I'm trying to flip it upside down and inside out and find the gratitude. </p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">So this year I'm thankful for rest, even when it was the last thing that I wanted. Going from running running running to stillness isn't something that's come naturally to me, and it still doesn't, eight or nine months later. But I'm grateful for quiet, and for learning to go a bit more slowly.</p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">When it suddenly became impossible to do any of the things that previously filled life to the brim, I'm grateful to have been reminded just how dearly I love the things that I do. This year, if anything, I think, has shown me exactly what I care most about. In not doing something, you go one of two ways - you become indifferent to it, realizing that you didn't really need it, or you realize just how much it truly filled you. So I'm grateful for the reminders of the things that truly fill, even if I don't know how or when or if they'll become rhythms again. </p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">I'm grateful for connection and community, because this year it has become more evident than ever how deeply we all need it. We've had to fight for it and figure out creative ways to bring it to life, but I'm grateful for it all the same - even more, I think, for how scarce it's been at times. My people are the most beautiful part of life, and I'm so grateful for each and every one of them. You know. </p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">I'm grateful for art, because if anything (aside from Jesus + my people) has gotten me through this year, it's that. For stories and color and music and all of the things that make the world more beautiful. The world would be a pretty miserable place without art, and throughout this year, I think we've all seen just how desperately we need it to keep us afloat.</p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">I'm grateful for a God who never leaves, even when the world feels upside down. Who keeps orchestrating the story and who has a plan for it all, even when I feel lost in the dark.</p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">I'm grateful for home, and for family, and for health. I'm grateful that we're all here - because at the end of the day, that's all that really matters. The world's still spinning. We're all here. And that's enough. </p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;">-----</p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">Happy Thanksgiving, friends. Thanks for sticking around for another year of Thankfulness Thursdays - they've been a joy. Grateful for each and every one of you every day. </p><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;">-----</span></span></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><i><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;">Thankfulness Thursday Friends </span></span><b>♥</b></i></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><b><a href="https://closetonothingblog.blogspot.com/2020/11/nov-26th-thankfulness-thursday.html" style="color: lightpink; text-decoration: none;">Keira -- Close to Nothing</a></b></div><div style="border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; widows: 2;"><p>-----</p><p><i>In case you missed it...</i></p><p><a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/11/thankfulness-thursday-i.html" style="color: lightpink; text-decoration: none;">Thankfulness Thursday I</a></p><p><a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/11/thankfulness-thursday-ii.html" style="color: lightpink; text-decoration: none;">Thankfulness Thursday II</a></p><p><a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/11/thankfulness-thursday-iii.html">Thankfulness Thursday III</a></p></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-77940100201382975062020-11-19T16:04:00.004-05:002020-11-19T16:04:26.177-05:00Thankfulness Thursday III<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX0JWsNMl4kHTvONHwYk_fQkkItcDvzshh1HkQy4EwaXzwfTvFE0Yu71yWV6SpspSa6dx_2hxidOXhhGO11wglhkid8eNGXYPyUeedsLw6amkONSNORakioPKSsSnRL08lz1nc4YR0Rho/s2048/IMG_2733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX0JWsNMl4kHTvONHwYk_fQkkItcDvzshh1HkQy4EwaXzwfTvFE0Yu71yWV6SpspSa6dx_2hxidOXhhGO11wglhkid8eNGXYPyUeedsLw6amkONSNORakioPKSsSnRL08lz1nc4YR0Rho/s16000/IMG_2733.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Happy Thursday, friends!</p><p>Late last week, I remember thinking, "I'm going to knock out all of my work in the next few days, and then I can work on some creative projects over the weekend". Well, it's Thursday, and those creative projects have yet to be touched. It's just been that kind of week. :-) </p><p>The semester is on its way out (20 more days!), the air is cooling as the trees continue to grow bare, and I'm finally beginning to feel like it's time for the holiday season to make things a little bit warmer and a little bit brighter. Late November always feels like the strangest in-between, and this year's strange to begin with, but we're here anyways. It's a little odd, a little overwhelming, but we're here.</p><p>And that's something to celebrate, I think.</p><p>I like to think of gratitude as "intentional noticing" - paying attention to the little moments that matter. It's something I'm pretty sure I'll be working on for the rest of my days, but I know that it makes life so much sweeter. So every day this week, I scribbled down those "hey, look at me!" moments, however small. I highly suggest giving it a try this week - especially if you're feeling a little overwhelmed.</p><p>I'd be lying if I said that my brain wasn't a little fried this week from one too many hours staring at graphic design workspaces and law briefings, but having something to bring me back into focus every day was a lifesaver. So here are some of those moments from this past week for me - what were yours? </p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: center;">M O M E N T S</p><p style="text-align: left;">Friday - I went to the mall for the first time since the pandemic began, and it was weird and wonderful all at once. I didn't buy anything, but I wandered and looked and listened to the Christmas music play. My favorite store was filled with velvet skirts, and it couldn't have felt more like the holiday season was finally here. That night, I got to watch Kenzie slay her poetry slam over Zoom (she took SECOND and I was so proud), and we watched You've Got Mail. I think I love it a little more every single time. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQ7warF-QqiTd9Nq3wP7eF0b922_omDEbhLPeMZoOetD-a9mE0w4UIJ1NWpBi83UfqXWg5zwt8XcSY-400FvKXS9-sxqvpzAPQGG8iGPwAHD6WTUvSbkDc_lTfe6n_Fcfa_BiZSND_yo/s853/IMG_4083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQ7warF-QqiTd9Nq3wP7eF0b922_omDEbhLPeMZoOetD-a9mE0w4UIJ1NWpBi83UfqXWg5zwt8XcSY-400FvKXS9-sxqvpzAPQGG8iGPwAHD6WTUvSbkDc_lTfe6n_Fcfa_BiZSND_yo/w400-h225/IMG_4083.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;">Saturday - Golden light and checking things off the list. Good conversations and quiet space.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Sunday - Sunday was probably my peak overwhelm day, with all the things seeming to hit at once. But then late that afternoon I got a text from a dear friend, and, against my better judgement, the next thing I knew, I was driving to a coffee shop to meet up with him before he headed back to school. The air was chilled and the sunset was gorgeous and I hadn't seen him since August, and when I got home my to-do list wasn't any shorter but I could breathe again. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Monday - Outdoor dance classes and talks with a friend. My elementary babies learned their choreography the quickest they ever have, and I was quite proud. :-) When I got home, I sat in the leaves and talked to my mom as the sun slowly set.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_NgpKzdJm-6OSFk7J4pRYaNgHlKfp-c3yqTBO3Np9oABWVMvYKR001CInm2AV2tyef_2N1ByjhrVgfqNGeUV0eAPKSbNnYT9Uf-3kyLm8eaYdFeHdd1blFCNl6m9SwOsCsry2MwXv08/s2048/IMG_4131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_NgpKzdJm-6OSFk7J4pRYaNgHlKfp-c3yqTBO3Np9oABWVMvYKR001CInm2AV2tyef_2N1ByjhrVgfqNGeUV0eAPKSbNnYT9Uf-3kyLm8eaYdFeHdd1blFCNl6m9SwOsCsry2MwXv08/w300-h400/IMG_4131.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Tuesday - Catching up catching up catching up. Getting to design logos and sketch botanicals instead of editing law papers. Finishing hours of Zoom calls with a checked-off list of multitasked work to show for it.</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLI29xkUXIqVDDzzJ8F72EnkBvSVfUyzlZisp4wTbAZ1GkyYAmb4M5ddikaoOSzEKREit1r2q1QBeUsi526FcQIup0NcKDSOOq88KlnsYuo7JrfAjXQPq2rm3GRCrJ3Lw7ZfLnDm9wvI/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLI29xkUXIqVDDzzJ8F72EnkBvSVfUyzlZisp4wTbAZ1GkyYAmb4M5ddikaoOSzEKREit1r2q1QBeUsi526FcQIup0NcKDSOOq88KlnsYuo7JrfAjXQPq2rm3GRCrJ3Lw7ZfLnDm9wvI/" width="240" /></a></div><br />Wednesday - Getting a presentation that I'd been dreading for a month out of the way. My cat deciding that I had worked long enough and promptly sitting on my laptop, then sitting on me. Light dancing on the walls and making the world a little more beautiful.<p></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Thankfulness Thursday Friends <span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><b>♥</b></span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><b><a href="https://closetonothingblog.blogspot.com/2020/11/nov-19th-thankfulness-thursday.html">Keira -- Close to Nothing</a></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">-----</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><i>In case you missed it...</i></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-size: 15px;"><a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/11/thankfulness-thursday-i.html">Thankfulness Thursday I</a></span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-size: 15px;"><a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/11/thankfulness-thursday-ii.html">Thankfulness Thursday II</a></span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;">-----</span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><i style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">What are you grateful for this week, friends? I'd love to hear. And hey - I'd love for you to join in the Thankfulness Thursday challenge. Be sure to drop a link in the comments if you do - I'd love to share it, and I'd love to see it. </span>♥ Check out the beautiful posts above, or head over to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/totallygraced/" style="color: lightpink; text-decoration: none;">my instagram</a> to see some of the incredible humans joining in over there on my story - I love them all so dearly.</span></b></i></p>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-1877073077916966552020-11-12T20:28:00.001-05:002020-11-12T20:28:25.233-05:00Thankfulness Thursday II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh17ZxM1_fa2JAdn8IqhSLtnl4-1bQBnKV1S9XkdDr-fNmDjihhNE0W5DXIDR4xJc-XYCO5_Q-b_NewmCZX0PzN8LsDR-eGSXq33KgPbr2vMS34MkTCrTIl-fhucngrHgW5bkNMbtyiP6s/s1334/B745FF0E-1DD8-4F1E-B0A4-5947B23172D3.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh17ZxM1_fa2JAdn8IqhSLtnl4-1bQBnKV1S9XkdDr-fNmDjihhNE0W5DXIDR4xJc-XYCO5_Q-b_NewmCZX0PzN8LsDR-eGSXq33KgPbr2vMS34MkTCrTIl-fhucngrHgW5bkNMbtyiP6s/s16000/B745FF0E-1DD8-4F1E-B0A4-5947B23172D3.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>Hello, lovely humans - happy week two. :-) </p><p>It's been a weird week, the kind that feels as though it's flown by and dragged on all at once. I still haven't gotten used to how short the days are, and this sunlight loving girl is not a fan. It seems like every day I find myself panicking because oh-my-goodness-the-day-is-almost-over-and-there's-still-so-much-to-do, and then I look at the clock only to find that no, it's just 5:15, and I need to calm the heck down.</p><p>In case you've ever wondered what my day-to-day life is like, well, there you go. </p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: left;">When I think about 2020, the very first thought that enters my head is that I would give just about anything to be done with it, to forget it ever happened. We've all been saying it for the past nine months, haven't we? We're counting down to 2021 with the desperate (if naive) hope that it will be better, ready to put this chaotic mess of a year behind us. </p><p style="text-align: left;">It's kind of sad, really. I don't think anyone can be blamed for it - things have been rough, plain and simple. But it's sad, thinking about how a year - the start of a decade - that was entered into with so much enthusiasm has gone so south. </p><p style="text-align: left;">That's not to say that there isn't gratitude to be found in the year - there is, and this challenge is really, really good for me, because it's making me think differently, to look harder and press deeper into gratitude. My thoughts on it all are tangled but numerous, and I'm glad that we still have a couple more weeks to keep going into it all. </p><p style="text-align: left;">What stuck with me today, though, as I sat down to write this post, is how grateful I am for the moments of oblivion. Maybe oblivion isn't the right term - we're all a little too aware of everything this year, I think. But I'm exceptionally grateful for the small moments of normalcy that have been found amidst so much chaos, the moments in which the world didn't feel quite so terrible. Where maybe we weren't oblivious to everything happening, but it wasn't consuming. We could breathe. And maybe they've been few and far between, but wow, am I grateful for them. </p><p style="text-align: left;">When I look back on this blog years down the road, and I wince as I select the 2020 tab, I want to remember the moments where, however unstable, things felt okay. When the magic of normalcy prevailed, even for a moment. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>It's the last day of February and we closed one of the most difficult shows of my life. By a stroke of pure magic, all of the people that I love most in the world are in one single place, and we dance on the empty stage and load cars in the freezing cold and snap a single terrible self timer photo that I'll cherish for the rest of my days. We hop from terrible fast food restaurant to terrible fast food restaurant and pack into a single car because there's nowhere else to sit, and we laugh until we cannot breathe. It's the best night of the year and I somehow know it, in that moment. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>We know the lockdown is coming; it's just a matter of time. But my best friend and I are hired to dance, and the gig makes it through, exactly one week before all hell breaks loose. It's the last time I'm in a crowd, but I don't know it, not then. We get up at five and drive to the set and I pinch myself all morning. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Spring. I sit in the sun, and everywhere I look, there are blooms. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;">---</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>I drive and I drive, from the middle of nowhere one way to the middle of the mountains the other. I can't hug my kids, but I see them, and their surprised faces fill me for the rest of the week. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;">---</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>It's that hazy almost-summer-but-not-quite time of the year. Lawn chairs are spread out all over a friend's massive front yard, and we're so thrilled to be together that the whole six foot thing couldn't matter less.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>For the first time in almost three months, I dance, with the most wonderful choreographer in the world. We work for hours and don't even care how late it gets because we're dancing again, and it's a piece of the puzzle we've missed so desperately.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>The sun goes down in the distance as we sit in the grass, worshipping. This park has become our new second home, and as I close my eyes, I feel lighter than I have in a long, long time.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>June. <a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/10/clear-skies.html">The skies are clear</a> and it's a miracle I don't spend the whole day weeping. When it's finally over, we spend hours laughing in the dark, sitting in our dresses and heels in a friend's driveway. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;">---</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>The flowers probably constitute as weeds, but we pick them anyways. We walk in circles around the pond, the July sun beating down as we twist the stems and talk. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>We haven't been to the pool in years, but this is a summer smells like chlorine and is sweetened with friendship. It's a routine that becomes therapeutic, and for a few hours the water washes the world away.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>I turn twenty and I am overwhelmed by love, fuller than I knew I could be.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>The twinkle lights glow as we sit on the back porch for one of the last times of the summer. A new season is beginning and people are going and the last thing I'm ready for is more new, but for a moment nothing is new and I hold on to it. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>We drive up into the mountains for apples, something I haven't done in years. The leaves are only beginning to change, and the drive is only an hour, but it feels like an adventure. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>I sit on the empty beach, completely surrounded by shells, and realize that I can't remember the last time that my body held this little tension. I've been here for a week and am overwhelmed by peace that I didn't know could still be felt. I think to myself that I could stay in this very spot for the rest of my days and it would be enough.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>The sky is still a deep indigo, but the horizon line is beginning to glow towards the east. I wrap myself in a blanket and slip out the door, the porch boards creaking under my bare feet. I sink into the old rocking chair and stare out at the sky as it slowly comes to life with color - pinks and oranges and golds. And as I stare at the sky, it's in this oblivion that I can breathe.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">-----</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Thankfulness Thursday Friends</i> <i style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><b>♥</b></i></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-size: 15px;"><b><a href="https://closetonothingblog.blogspot.com/2020/11/nov-12th-thankfulness-thursday.html">Keira -- Close to Nothing</a></b></span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-size: 15px;"><b><a href="https://melodypersonetteauthor.blogspot.com/2020/11/called-to-thankfulness.html">Melody -- Down the Rabbit Hole</a></b></span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-size: 15px;">-----</span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);"><i>In case you missed it...</i></span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);"><a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/11/thankfulness-thursday-i.html">Thankfulness Thursday I</a></span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);">-----</span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);"><br /></span></span></p><p style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><i style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">What are you grateful for this week, friends? I'd love to hear. And hey - I'd love for you to join in the Thankfulness Thursday challenge. Be sure to drop a link in the comments if you do - I'd love to share it, and I'd love to see it. </span>♥ Check out the beautiful posts above, or head over to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/totallygraced/">my instagram</a> to see some of the incredible humans joining in over there on my story - I love them all so dearly.</span></b></i></p><p></p>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-68128155245817281212020-11-05T21:13:00.001-05:002020-11-06T22:33:27.123-05:00Thankfulness Thursday I<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPmdQIAduzHdqn5gDYY8a9lBIEGgsP6YWqYqi7TGVtv9jM_Y5dcB6Qdyv7XHc_ilyRb0SAQvYN2tuqbZnz7Jng3C6HCD_Pte_awjLI3rVVx6M-WQGXACDY0yxNX3kmmRXlNlgVSXrQKQ/s2048/13BA0E53-0B66-4255-BC41-3765A7346C81.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPmdQIAduzHdqn5gDYY8a9lBIEGgsP6YWqYqi7TGVtv9jM_Y5dcB6Qdyv7XHc_ilyRb0SAQvYN2tuqbZnz7Jng3C6HCD_Pte_awjLI3rVVx6M-WQGXACDY0yxNX3kmmRXlNlgVSXrQKQ/w480-h640/13BA0E53-0B66-4255-BC41-3765A7346C81.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>And, we're back. :-) <p></p><p>Goodness, I love this series. I am so excited to be diving into Thankfulness Thursdays for the<b><i> sixth</i></b> year now. Six years! As cliche as it feels to say, it seems like forever ago and yesterday all at once, and I'm just happy to still be here. </p><p>Most of you know the drill, but if you're new around here, here's how it goes - every Thursday for the month of November, I share a post here on the blog centering around gratitude or what I'm particularly grateful for. Additionally, I'm carrying the series over to Instagram as well, and will be posting over there every Thursday as well. This year will be the biggest yet, and I'm so excited! And I want <b><u>you</u></b> to be involved as well. </p><p>My favorite part of Thankfulness Thursdays is seeing people join in - I love this little community, and I love hearing your thoughts over the course of the month. There’s no major method to the madness - I would just love for you to share what’s on your heart this November. This year has been a wild one, and I’m really hoping that Thankfulness Thursdays will be a way for us all to take a step back and just breathe.</p>Tag me in your posts on Instagram, and I will share them on my story, and shoot me a comment, email, or DM if you post for Thankfulness Thursday on your blog, and I’ll link to it on my blog post for that week so that we all can see what everyone is sharing.<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">-----</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If I'm being completely honest, I've been wrestling quite a bit over the course of this year with contentment.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Which, for me, has really never been the norm. I'm the kind of person who's content to stay where they are. I have more goals and bucket list items and "one day"'s than I could begin to count, and I've always been pecking away at some sort of project trying to get there - but when it comes to the day to day, I've almost always been content.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As everything has flipped upside down this year, not only with the pandemic but a litany of life things, I've found myself struggling more and more to be okay where I am. More often than not, I've wanted to be anywhere <i>but </i>where I am. I've driven myself crazy wishing to go back to how things used to be, or dreaming up how things could be. And I've hated it, this discontentment, hated the lack of peace that it's given me. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One night a few months back, I was lying in bed, wrestling with it all and trying to figure out how on earth to, for lack of a better term, pull myself together. And the whisper of clarity that I received was so distinct that I wrote it down on the spot, because I knew there was no way it could have come from my tangled-up brain: <b>contentment looks like gratitude.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gratitude and contentment pretty much go hand in hand. When you're content, you're grateful for what you've been given, and when you're grateful, contentment isn't too far behind. And that's what I've had to remind myself, over and over and over. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Life is hard, but there is so much to be grateful for</b>. And maybe life in this season doesn't look like what I would have chosen, but I'm here for a reason, and I can make the conscious decision to be grateful for the good that <b>is</b> around me. I can choose what I dwell on - and that definitely isn't a battle that I win every day, or even most days. But it's a refrain that I can choose, a rewiring that I can aim towards. And in the conscious act of choosing gratitude over and over again, it becomes more and more of a default. That's why I'm extra excited for this series this year - because I know that it's the push I need to keep rewiring my brain towards gratitude. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>Whenever I start panicking or feeling overwhelmed or stuck, I'm trying to get into the habit of taking the time to calm down and think through things that I'm grateful for about my present circumstances - the things in this season of life that are good. I shared a list of some of my favorites from this week over on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/totallygraced/">my Instagram</a>, and I'm going to drop that list here - maybe it will give you a starting point of your own. :-)</div><div><br /></div><div>gratitude:</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- the ocean</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- journaling on the front porch as the sun comes up</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- the beanie that my best friend knit for me</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- books that make me laugh</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- books that make me cry</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- books that do both</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- tiny birds that make me smile</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- blasting bad 2000’s pop music while I get ready in the morning</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- blueberry bagels + cream cheese</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- time to finally breathe</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- sweater pockets full of seashells</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- long walks</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">- sunrises and sunsets and all the colors of the sky in between</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Contentment looks like gratitude.</b> I just keep reminding myself of that fact, over and over and over. Contentment looks like gratitude - and I have so much to be grateful for. </span></span></div><div style="orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;">-----</span></span></div><div style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><i><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;">Thankfulness Thursday Friends </span></span><b style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px;">♥</b></i></div><div style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><i><b style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px;"><br /></b></i></div><div style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato; font-size: 15px;"><a href="https://closetonothingblog.blogspot.com/2020/11/nov-5th-thankfulness-thursday.html">Keira -- Close to Nothing</a></b></div><div style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;">-----</span></span></div><div style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;"><i><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">What are you grateful for this week, friends? I'd love to hear. And hey - I'd love for you to join in the Thankfulness Thursday challenge. Be sure to drop a link in the comments if you do - I'd love to share it, and I'd love to see it. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); font-family: Lato;">♥ Check out my instagram to see some of the incredible humans joining in over there on my story - I love them all so dearly.</span></span></b></i></div><div><br /></div></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-45629667237082057652020-10-28T08:00:00.001-04:002020-10-28T08:00:07.342-04:00clear skies<div><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTY22WWkwNL7d0EWfPoDWw3F1Oi4HIHu0ozJG1yvuVBxiILiCGZpzbAglXxvdVvbm1slHutWolyKR5dNcsrRUQqKIzk6KW83XkOmA4o1Fv9inp6NxyrdZI0Ryr0Pz96dRGRQOXJ0_MIA/s1600/IMG_6775.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTY22WWkwNL7d0EWfPoDWw3F1Oi4HIHu0ozJG1yvuVBxiILiCGZpzbAglXxvdVvbm1slHutWolyKR5dNcsrRUQqKIzk6KW83XkOmA4o1Fv9inp6NxyrdZI0Ryr0Pz96dRGRQOXJ0_MIA/w640-h480/IMG_6775.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />If you're subscribed to <a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/06/wishing-you-clear-skies.html" target="_blank">The Tuesday Letters</a>, these words will be familiar to you, but this is one of the most special pieces that I've written this year, and I wanted it to live here on the blog, too. Amidst a year of so much heaviness, this is one of my dearest memories, one that I've hung on to when the world has felt completely upside down. I hope that it can mean something to you, too. </i></div><b><div><b><br /></b></div>June 23, 2020 </b><div><br /></div><div>This week took "wishing you clear skies" to a whole new level. <br /><br />The past month has been filled with preparations for a belated graduation for the theatre group that I work for - a graduation ceremony for my sister and a handful of our dearest friends, who would be graduating alongside her. On any other year, the ceremony would have taken place mid-May, but due to the COVID crisis, it had to be pushed out. <br /><br />Still, there were quite a few safety measures that needed to be put in place, the biggest of which was the venue. Our graduations are traditionally held in a theater, but theater buildings are still closed in our area, and we all felt that having an indoor event probably wasn't the wisest, anyways. After quite a bit of searching, we found a beautiful outdoor wedding venue that would work for what we needed. <br /><br />Now, however, we had a new problem on our hands. We were trying to host an outdoor event. In June. In the South. And no, I'm not just talking about the heat. <br /><br />Summertime around here is notorious for having the most unpredictable weather imaginable. The temperature fluctuates like you wouldn't believe, but possibly the most difficult unpredictability in it all is the rain. There's absolutely no telling when it's going to come and how long it's going to stick around. <br /><br />By the week of graduation, my phone's immediately suggested website was the weather channel, which I found myself refreshing religiously, becoming more and more horrified by the day. <br /><br />Thursday's forecast kept up a consistent 80% chance of thunderstorms, the lightning bolt across my screen seeming more and more smug with every refresh. We needed a miracle - and at this point, a miracle was the last thing that I felt we could hope for. <br /><br />Because if we're being honest, life lately hasn't felt very miraculous. I think we've all been praying for miracles over the last few months, and I don't know about you, but my cynicism has taken over more often than not as we've watched loss after loss take place. By nature I always so badly want to hope for the happy ending, but when it comes down to it, I tend to expect the worst, especially these days.<br /><br />So, of course it would rain Thursday. Of course. The irony would just be too strong - finally being able to be together only to get rained out. We were all praying, and I knew that there was always room for God to keep us dry, but I really didn't want to expect it. Let me rephrase that - <b>I wanted to expect Him to show up, but I didn't feel as though I could. </b><br /><br />Setting up that day, dark clouds rolled overhead. I kept nervously refreshing the forecast, glancing up at the sky as we set out the white plastic chairs. We'd stuffed towels in the trunk in case it rained and then stopped prior to the ceremony, to dry off all of the chairs. Personally, I wondered if, once it started, it would ever stop. <br /><br />The hours leading up to the ceremony were hectic - trying to set up a full tech booth outdoors, running through the program for the first time together, making sure that the seats were labeled and hair was curled and everything was ready to go. It was a frenzy, and it was only when I was finally seated, mere seconds before the graduates walked, that I looked up. <br /><br />The sky was the most beautiful, beautiful blue. <br /><br />When I tell you that the weather that night couldn't have been more perfect - wow. It wasn't windy or horribly hot, and, by the grace of God, it didn't rain. It wasn't until hours after the ceremony, as we sat together on blankets in a friend's driveway long past midnight that people started piping in. <br /><br />"It was pouring the entire drive over", said a friend who had come from over an hour away. "I almost called you because it was such a bad storm. I didn't know what y'all were going to do." <br /><br />My mom spoke up then, saying that a friend coming from the opposite direction had told her the exact same thing. Apparently, it had been raining on all sides of the venue. A few people even swore that they'd seen raindrops bounce on the little pond directly behind where the graduates were standing during the ceremony. And yet, for us, the night couldn't have been more perfect.<br /><br />Writing this now, curled up under a blanket on Monday afternoon, I can't help but smile as I glance out the window at the darkening sky. It looks like we're in for yet another stormy afternoon - but on Thursday, we saw a miracle. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't the biggest thing, was it? We're still in a pandemic. There's still upheaval all around us. And yet, for an evening, all of that didn't feel quite so big, because for that evening, we had clear skies. And there was music and dancing and for a few hours, we got to celebrate the people dearest to us in the way that we always have. Our graduations are probably the loudest, quirkiest, most sentimental graduation ceremonies that you'll ever attend, and we cherish them. So to have that - to not lose that - was pure joy. <br /><br />The world may still feel like a mess, but let me at least remind you that the little miracles are still here. Maybe everything isn't resolving as quickly as we'd like - but our timetable isn't His, thank heavens. And in it all He's still here and still moving, even in the things that would be insignificant to anyone but us. <br /><br /><b>Don't be afraid to expect good things from God. </b>That's the exact opposite of how we should be thinking. We can't give up on hope just because things aren't playing out the way we thought they would. <br /><br />Coming off of a really horrible May, my sole prayer was simply for June to be better. "Just let it be better," I prayed. As I flipped through my Bible those first few days, I landed on a verse that I didn't remember ever reading before, though I know I had to have - Psalm 27:13.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." </div><br />I don't memorize Scripture as much as I should, but for once, I didn't even have to try. Those words have been branded onto my brain since the day that I read them, my battle cry for June and beyond. We will see His goodness here on earth - even when we least expect it. <br /><br />Keep your head up, friends. Cheering you on. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivELBAQT682t8z2vMaiF-mDRyxSK4WGyCO_oFdTZYeOUEQxcFS_3WqxjYvxGGiRvW2H72pbRJgdte2GNxQ9CS13PdAUcnHAkTR7eoUjA7itexlcqct5v_aBh0K8__sN4jsNb4jYUkjTpE/s2048/IMG_1056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivELBAQT682t8z2vMaiF-mDRyxSK4WGyCO_oFdTZYeOUEQxcFS_3WqxjYvxGGiRvW2H72pbRJgdte2GNxQ9CS13PdAUcnHAkTR7eoUjA7itexlcqct5v_aBh0K8__sN4jsNb4jYUkjTpE/w480-h640/IMG_1056.JPG" title="mid-ceremony, I sent this to my dear friend, Hailey, who'd been praying for us all day. you know I love a good sky photo, but this might just be my new favorite." width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: "playfair display", georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />mid-ceremony, I sent this to my dear friend, <a href="https://haileyhudson.wordpress.com/" style="color: #007c89;" target="_blank">Hailey</a>, who'd been praying for us all day.<br />you know I love a good sky photo, but this might just be my new favorite.</span></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>If you haven't subscribed to The Tuesday Letters, you can sign up today <a href="https://blogspot.us20.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=30046a5f14c9a6e864f9ff284&id=3be8444302">here.</a></i></div></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div>Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-36052377457449647892020-09-10T08:02:00.001-04:002020-09-10T08:02:01.214-04:00worth living for<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUmRBnBWivDd61EaeApFnlwl22SDmaWgFyHrOESJHcLUjz9Ct4ujEjNrPBB9Ud3He-CXhWhp6Z91PCpYEq8c16vhxqsMEQLVacHPyD5Pf82SOFH1ttTOCiAndIF9tqoyXP593mbTwXb2E/s1600/D4E49056-3062-4349-8169-B1731A15EC96.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUmRBnBWivDd61EaeApFnlwl22SDmaWgFyHrOESJHcLUjz9Ct4ujEjNrPBB9Ud3He-CXhWhp6Z91PCpYEq8c16vhxqsMEQLVacHPyD5Pf82SOFH1ttTOCiAndIF9tqoyXP593mbTwXb2E/w586-h781/D4E49056-3062-4349-8169-B1731A15EC96.JPG" width="586" /></a></div><br /><b>My dear friend Keira always reminds me that life is filled with duality</b>. It's a reminder that I frequently need, a lesson I have to remind myself of again and again. That life isn't always black and white, as we're so prone to think. Terrible things can happen on the best of days, and in the midst of what feels like the world falling apart, a blessing can drop into our laps.<br /><br />When it's easy to take a season as being all good or all bad, I hear her reminder echoing in the back of my mind. That really, it's all a juggling act, a dance of staying afloat through it all.<br /><br />As I was reading this year's statement from TWLOHA - To Write Love on Her Arms - her words were the first to pop into my mind. <div><br /></div><div>TWLOHA is an incredible nonprofit that works to give hope to people struggling with depression, addiction, self-harm, and suicide, while helping them to invest in treatment and recovery. My friend Elissa first brought them to my attention in September of 2017 to <a href="http://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2017/09/stay.html">join in their "Stay" campaign</a> for National Suicide Prevention Month, and each September since, I've gone back to see what their theme of the year is and how I can be a part of it.</div><div><br />This year, TWLOHA's theme is "Worth Living For", based on a poem that I'm going to link <a href="https://twloha.com/blog/its-all-worth-living-for/">here.</a> In describing how they went about choosing the theme for the year, Jamie, the founder of TWLOHA, said, "I believe what [the poet] is saying is that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be good. And nearly everything is better when it’s shared. Victory and defeat and coffee—good, bad, and in-between."<br /><br />If 2020 has taught us anything, it's that life is never and will never be perfect. I don't know a single person who hasn't walked through pain over the course of the last eight and a half months. It's been a year of blows and losses, and I know that I can't be the only one who's gone to bed at night wondering what it's all for.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Pain causes us to block out everything except for our pain.</b> It's a survival mechanism - we're sensing a threat, so all of our strength and energy goes to fighting that threat. When suffering hits - whether that's circumstantial pain or the kind of depression that runs deep - we forget the duality. We're unable to see anything in front of us but the glaring white pain, and when you're experiencing that level of hurt, all you want is out. <br /><br />Friend, if no one has told you this today, let me be the first - <b>your life matters more than you know.</b><br /><br />Read that again.<br /><br />Your life matters. <b>You</b> matter. You, with all of your flaws and baggage and scars. You matter. And even when it feels as though you can't see three feet in front of you and it hurts to move, this life is so worth the living.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Today - September 10th - is National Suicide Prevention Day.</b> And I know that I'm no therapist - I'm just a twenty year old girl who cares a lot. But what I also know is that when pain takes over and makes you forget what you know to be true, sometimes you need a tangible reminder to grab on to. </div><div><br /></div><div>So in honor of today and all that it represents, and of TWLOHA's theme this year, <b>I made a list of 75 things that are worth living for.</b> A few of them are specific to me, but most of them are written with you in mind. I made this list because when things get messy and hard, <b>I want you to have something that you can hold, something that can remind you of why you need to stay. </b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>1. Sunshine.<br />2. Family.<br />3. People who have <i>become</i> family.<br />4. The butterflies of anticipation right before something you've been waiting for.<br />5. The cat that lives down the street and rubs your legs when you go for a walk.<br />6. The air at the ocean.<br />7. The lady who smiled when you let her go in front of you at the grocery store.<br />8. Stamps with cartoon characters on them.<br />9. The kid three years younger than you who looked up to you in school.<br />10. Dreams + plans of meeting all of my blogging friends.<br />11. The trip you're saving to go on.<br />12. The bonus episode of your favorite show that you don't know is coming out.<br />13. Christmas lights.<br />14. Dogs that get excited when they see you.<br />15. The book that you reread every year.<div>16. Sitting backstage and hearing the audience laughing and talking and settling in moments before the curtain opens for then first time.</div><div>17. Your favorite song.</div><div>18. Sunrises and sunsets.</div><div>19. The stuffed animal you've had since you were three.</div><div>20. Talks with Keira.</div><div>21. Brand new notebooks.</div><div>22. The black and white photographs that hang above my bed.</div><div>23. Conversations sitting in parked cars.</div><div>24. Cheesecake.</div><div>25. Driving + listening to my favorite podcast.</div><div>26. Cozy sweaters.</div><div>27. Watching reruns of Gilmore Girls.</div><div>28. Dancing in the kitchen and in the living room and just about everywhere else.</div><div>29. The kids that I teach. </div><div>30. All of the new music and Broadway shows that have yet to come out.<br />31. Wildflowers by the side of the road.</div><div>32. Warm piles of laundry.</div><div>33. Sleeping in after a long week.</div><div>34. Random texts from people you love. </div><div>35. Staring up at a sky filled with stars.</div><div>36. Your favorite person's birthday.</div><div>37. Waking up to fresh snow on the ground.</div><div>38. Filled-up journals.</div><div>39. Playing with kittens. </div><div>40. The book not yet written.</div><div>41. The friends that have been in my life longer than they haven't been.</div><div>42. Twirling in full skirts.</div><div>43. Long walks.</div><div>44. Plants that spill over the pot. </div><div>45. New cities that you haven't explored yet.</div><div>46. Watching everything come back into bloom after a long winter. </div><div>47. The pen you love that writes just *right*.</div><div>48. Road trips.</div><div>49. Finding the perfect item you've been looking for at a thrift store.</div><div>50. The people on your "recent calls" list.</div><div>51. Cups of coffee.</div><div>52. Stumbling upon a lucky penny. </div><div>53. All of the inside jokes that you're a part of.</div><div>54. Curling up on the couch to watch your favorite movie for the thousandth time.</div><div>55. The sound of your best friend's laugh.</div><div>56. Fresh fruit in the summertime.</div><div>57. Used bookstores.</div><div>58. The toddler that always waves when you pass.</div><div>59. Hugs.</div><div>60. Singing at the top of your lungs while driving down a road you know like the back of your hand.</div><div>61. Nicknames.</div><div>62. How green everything is after it rains.</div><div>63. The person you let in front of you in traffic that you kept from being late to work.</div><div>64. Remembering why you love something.</div><div>65. The inexplicable peace of a quiet rainy Saturday.</div><div>66. Facetimes with someone you haven't seen in a while.</div><div>67. Your favorite pair of shoes.</div><div>68. People who feel like home.</div><div>69. Picnics.</div><div>70. The video that always makes you laugh. </div><div>71. Finding shapes in the clouds.</div><div>72. Long conversations.</div><div>73. The smell of bread baking.</div><div>74. Surprising someone on a rough day.</div><div>75. <b>You.</b> You are worth living for. And no matter what life is throwing your way these days, I pray that you never, <i>ever</i> forget that.</div><br />So now I want you to do something for me.<br /><br /><b>I want you to make a list.</b> <br /><br />I don't care if it's a word doc or a note on your phone of a scribbled column on the back of an old algebra handout. I want you to make a list. You can take things from my list, or you can make something completely different, it's up to you. But I don't want you going anywhere until you've written something down. Even if it's just one thing. Write it down. </div><div><br /></div><b>Every time that you wonder if there's anything left, I want you to look at that list.</b> And on the good days, I want you to add to it. On the bad days, I just want you to remember that it exists. But keep adding to it. Fill up a whole notebook if it keeps you grounded. But keep adding. <br /><br />Add the names of people that you love. Add things that you want to do, places that you want to go, goals you want to achieve. <br /><br />Know that they're all there. You just have to keep getting up in the morning.<br /><br />And to those who don't face the battle of deciding to stay, <b>show up for the ones that do.</b> Here's a secret - they're probably right in front of you and you don't even know it. That's why it's so vitally important to keep showing up. To keep checking in. To sit across the table over crappy cups of coffee and just be there. To see people, and to love them. <br /><br />We're all going through this crazy world together, side by side. And like Jamie said - everything is better when it's shared, the good, the bad, and everything in-between. <br /><br /><b>Connection is what keeps us grounded.</b> It keeps us present and it keeps us accountable. The world is a mess, but it's better when we aren't sorting through it alone. It's better when someone is beside us.<br /><br /><b>Every 40 seconds, someone dies by suicide.</b> That is a statistic that I would give anything in the world to change. That is a statistic that I'm determined to see us help to change. And it starts with loving and fighting and staying.<br /><br />If no one's told you today - hi. I love you. I see you. I see you in my social media feed and in my inbox. I hear your stories and I hear your hurt. And I love you. I love you so, so much. And the world is so much better for having you in it. <br /><br />So please stay.<br /><br />You are not alone. There are so many people who love you. So many people who want to help. <br /><br />This life isn't perfect. It's so far from it. But just because it can be bad doesn't mean that it can't be good, too. Duality, remember? Just because things look hopeless doesn't mean that there's not hope right around the corner. <br /><br />Over and over again this year, I've been reminded that there are going to be days when pain brings you to your knees in the corner of the living room floor. And some days you can't do anything but sit in it. <br /><br />But then you hear your favorite song from when you were twelve on the radio, and you remember dancing in your best friend's room like an idiot. And the light of the sun going down dances on the floor in front of you, and you wrap your hands around a glass of water and let the chill run through you. <br /><br />And maybe it's not the next day, and maybe it's not the next. But one morning, you're going to wake up and realize that you feel a little bit lighter than you did before. <br /><br />Hope is never nonexistent. It morphs and changes and isn't always exactly what we expected. But it's always there. <br /><br />You are loved by so many people. People you don't even know - people you've passed by and woven through and made better. By me, however many miles apart we may be. By the One who made the stars but said that you were the one that He loved.<br /><br />Keep fighting. Keep hoping. Keep staying. <br /><br />My inbox is always open. And hey - I'd love to see your list.Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-57910768712110541212020-08-01T18:14:00.005-04:002020-08-01T18:14:41.235-04:00My 2020 Bookshelf - vol. i<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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That's right, we're back to talking about one of my favorite things - books!</div>
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Back in January, I shared <a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/01/my-2019-bookshelf.html?m=1">my favorite reads of 2019</a>. I'd planned to make it an annual post, but quarantine hit, and suddenly I found myself with far more time to read than I would ever have in a normal spring. My goal for the year was to read 40 books, and when I hit 20 back at the beginning of July, I decided that we might as well split things up into two posts this year. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I didn't include all twenty in this post, because frankly, they weren't all worth mentioning. Still, I read some really great books over the past few months, and I'm excited to hear everyone's thoughts on them! Here are some of my most memorable reads from the first half of 2020. :-)</div>
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<b><i>Anomaly</i> by K.A. Emmons</b><br />
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I've talked about <i><a href="https://totallygraced.blogspot.com/search?q=the+blood+race">The Blood Race</a></i> series on my blog pretty extensively over the years, so it's no surprise that when Kate announced that a prequel would be coming out, I was pumped. Kate's been one of my dearest blogging friends for years now, and I've been in love with her series since the very beginning. </div>
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If you've somehow missed the entire blogging world screaming about this series, <i>The Blood Race </i>is a YA sci-fi/thriller trilogy. The books are jam-packed with an action-filled plot and beautiful, complex characters, and I'll always be shouting them from the rooftops. </div>
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<i>Anomaly, </i>the prequel to <i>The Blood Race, </i>dives deeper into the backstory of Ion, one of the main characters of the series. We get a glimpse into the upbringing that shaped him into the character that we follow throughout the rest of the books, with teasers of what's to come sprinkled throughout. It's short but sweet, and a great addition to the world of <i>The Blood Race. </i></div>
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<b><i>Little Women</i> by Lousia May Alcott</b></div>
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At the beginning of the year, it was pretty much impossible to go anywhere on the internet without hearing about <i>Little Women. </i>While I actually didn't see the movie until this past week (shoutout to <a href="https://losingthebusyness.wordpress.com/">Hanne</a> for being the best movie watching buddy and finally getting me to sit down and watch it!!!), I knew that I would want to reread the book first, and quickly dove back in to Alcott's world. </div>
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I could write essay after essay about my adoration for <i>Little Women. </i>Growing up in a house of girls myself, I think that I will always love this story, and always see so much of my own life in the March sisters'. It so perfectly captures what it's like to live in a house of women, with all of the energy and petty bickering and talking a mile a minute. While my love for classic lit is eternal, <i>Little Women </i>is one that holds up better than most, I think, because it's simply such an honest portrayal of life. It gave a true voice to women in a time when they were supposed to fade into the background, and showed them for all of their nuances and quirks and humanity. </div>
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Much of my love for <i>Little Women </i>also stems from the fact that I love Jo March with every fiber of my being. She's one of those characters that I just <i>click</i> with - her feisty passion for the things and people that she believes in, her determination to do great things, her desperation to keep life the same as it's always been. She's messy and she's flawed, but I understand her so completely and love her more than I can say.</div>
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<b><i>Fahrenheit 451</i> by Ray Bradbury</b></div>
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I truly don't know how I went so long without reading this, because wow - what an incredible book. My cousin had recommended it to me years and years ago, but it was only this past semester that I finally got around to reading it, as a part of a young adult literature class that I was taking. </div>
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I'm generally not a huge fan of dystopian literature, but <i>Fahrenheit 451</i> is absolutely brilliant. I found myself with an unexpected free afternoon one day and ran to the used bookstore to pick up the selections I'd need for the semester. I ended up reading the entirety of this one in a matter of hours that same afternoon. It's truly eerie in the way that it parallels so much of of our world today, and is such a thought-provoking exploration of technology, privacy, desensitization and censorship. It's wonderfully written and really makes you stop to consider what a world void of beauty and art and independent thought due to an overrun of technology could look like. In the world we live in today, it's one that I think everyone needs to read.</div>
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<b><i>I Remember Nothing</i> by Nora Ephron</b></div>
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I almost didn't add this one to the post as it wasn't one of my absolute favorites, but at the end of the day - it's Nora Ephron. How could I leave her out? </div>
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<i>You've Got Mail </i>is one of my all-time favorite movies, and I have endless respect for Nora Ephron as a writer. She had a style like no one else, so funny and quirky, direct and poignant. When I found this book of essays for fifty cents at a book sale, there was no way that I could pass it up.</div>
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I have to admit that I've enjoyed her movies more than I enjoyed this book. There were several select essays that I absolutely adored, but the book as a whole wasn't my favorite. Still, I'm pretty sure that I'll read or watch anything with Nora Ephron's name on it at least once. :-)</div>
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<b><i>I Was Anastasia</i> by Ariel Lawhon</b></div>
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I love love love this book.</div>
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I've been thoroughly and completely obsessed with Anastasia since I was nine years old. The movie was a favorite of my mom's, and I'm pretty sure that I started checking every Anastasia book that I could find out of the library the very week I watched it for the first time. By that time, Anastasia's death had long since been confirmed, but still, I couldn't help but wish - like so many people - that maybe, just maybe, she was still out there somewhere.</div>
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<i>I Was Anastasia </i>is a work of absolute brilliance. It's told from two perspectives with opposing timelines (very <i>The Last Five Years-</i>esque) - a young Anastasia, and Anna Anderson, the woman who claimed until her dying breath that she was the lost princess herself - spanning nearly eighty years.</div>
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The book is written with all of the intrigue of a thriller, constantly making you question anything you thought to be true. Brilliant really is the only way to put it - Lawhon's writing, her storytelling, her structure. <i>I Was Anastasia </i>is definitely one of the best books that I've read all year, and if you haven't read it yet, it needs to jump to the top of your list.</div>
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<b><i>Turtles All the Way Down</i> by John Green</b></div>
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I don't think I'll ever be able to express just how much I love <i>Turtles All the Way Down</i>. I've tried, time and time again, but words always fall short for me on this one.</div>
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Confession time: this was the first John Green book that I have ever read. He's been so drastically overhyped for so many years that I was just never drawn to his work. I watched <i>The Fault in Our Stars </i>with some friends back when it was the most beloved YA movie around and I thought it was fine, but it was never a favorite. (Could I talk for way too long about the tendency to prey on teenage emotions with things that are sad just to be sad? Yeah, don't start me.)</div>
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But when I discovered <i>Turtles All the Way Down, </i>I couldn't help but be intrigued. It was actually one of the first books that I did heavy promo work for when I started working for the bookstore, and while at the time I didn't want to buy it to read it for myself, I could see myself enjoying it.</div>
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<div>When I suddenly found myself with more time on my hands than I knew what to do with, it seemed like the perfect time to find out if I'd like it or not, and so I finally picked it up.</div><div><br /></div>Wow. I absolutely fell in love with <i>Turtles All the Way Down</i>. It's realistic and heartfelt and hopeful in a unique way that few books I've read are. Bittersweet, but what else can you expect from a book from John Green? The characters are genuine and well-developed, intensely flawed but intensely lovable. It's a solid contemporary with a twist of mystery and important themes. Written in the quirky, thought-provoking style that John Green is famous for, it gives one of the most incredibly realistic depictions of mental illness that I've ever read in a work of fiction. It meant a lot to me for a lot of different reasons, and it’s one that I’ll definitely be returning to again and again.</div><div><br /></div><div>
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<b><i>The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society</i> by Mary Ann Shaffer</b></div>
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The more time that I have away from this book, the more I really think that it simply wasn't what I expected.</div>
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I had really been looking forward to reading this book, but when I actually read it, I felt it was a bit overhyped. It's received a lot of popular acclaim in recent years, but I was not as impressed with it as I expected to be. However, the more that I've thought about it, I think this came down to two things:</div>
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1. I didn't know that it was going to be an epistolary novel. Not to say that there's anything wrong with epistolary works, but personally, I've never enjoyed them as much as I do traditional novels. </div>
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2. I thought that the book was about the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society's work <i>during </i>the war, when in reality, it was simply about their lives <i>after </i>the war.</div>
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So I think that honestly, I just had an idea of it in my head that was completely different from what it was, and that ended up disappointing me. The book, objectively, is a good one - the characters, particularly, are wonderful. The biggest complaint that I had about the ending itself was that it was extremely abrupt - my ebook copy had a bunch of extra content pages at the end, so I thought that I had a lot further to go in the story than there actually was, and the ending felt really sudden and rushed.</div>
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Still, a sweet book. I'm curious to see the movie - I think I might end up liking it better than the book!<br />
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<b><i>Brown Girl Dreaming</i> by Jacqueline Woodson</b></div>
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<i>Brown Girl Dreaming,</i> a memoir written in verse, gives a really interesting insight into what it was like to grow up as a young black girl in the 1960's. This is another one that I stumbled onto as a part of my young adult lit class, and I really enjoyed it. I loved the style, and as someone who's spent her whole life in the south, I loved reading more about the area where I've grown up. So much was familiar from hearing stories from my parents and grandparents, and yet there was so much to it that I knew nothing about. This book was a pleasant surprise, one that wasn't on my radar at all but I ended up really enjoying. </div>
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<b><i>To Kill a Mockingbird</i> by Harper Lee</b></div>
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I feel like it's impossible not to love <i>To Kill a Mockingbird.</i> </div>
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I hadn't picked this one up in years, but as I reread it, I couldn't help but fall in love all over again. It is <b>such </b>a powerful, important work of literature. It makes you think in a really unique way, and I found myself wanting to reread it the second I turned the final page. What a world we would have if there were more people like Atticus in it, eh?</div>
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<b><i>Home Work</i> by Julie Andrews</b></div>
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I love Julie Andrews with my whole heart.</div>
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I read her first memoir, <i>Home</i>, several years ago, and was SO incredibly excited when a second one came out. (I still have my fingers crossed for a third...this one ends prior to The Princess Diaries + her Broadway return, and you already know how much I want to read about that) This second memoir chronicles her time from <i>Mary Poppins </i>up until her return to Broadway. Much of it was taken from her diary entries, and my next goal is to buy the audiobook - she narrates it herself.</div>
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Julie Andrews will forever amaze me with her kindness, strength, courage, and class, and reading about the behind the scenes of her life only made me love her more. The grace that she exudes spills off the page, and it was so much fun to get to know her a little better through this book.</div>
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<b><i>Attachments </i>by Rainbow Rowell</b></div>
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I honestly don't remember for certain how I stumbled onto this book, but I want to say that it popped up on my Pinterest feed and I became intrigued. A quick library check revealed an available ebook, and I dove in. The premise almost reminded me of <i>You've Got Mail </i>- a guy tasked with monitoring the emails that are sent within a company's server finds himself falling in love with an employee solely based upon her emails. While I can't say that it was my favorite book that I've ever read, it was a cute story. The plot felt a bit flat at points, and because the two main characters had no real relationship for the first 2/3 of the story, it could be a little hard to connect with at points. Still, it was a sweet, light read, and I loved the concept of it all. Not a reread, but enjoyable all the same.</div>
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<b><i>The Great Alone</i> by Kristin Hannah</b></div>
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I went into <i>The Great Alone</i> knowing absolutely nothing about it - I'd noticed it at work before and thought that it looked interesting, and I knew that several of my coworkers had really enjoyed it. I also knew that I'd heard friends rave about Kristin Hannah's writing for ages. But as far as the story itself, I went in with zero expectations.<br />
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As someone who's never even been anywhere near the Northwest, just reading about Alaska in and of itself was oh so fascinating. It truly sounds like a whole other world - one that I don't think I could ever live in, but am now both more intrigued by and terrified of than ever before. The setting was a character all on its own, creating so many tangled up circumstances throughout the novel. <br />
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I think that the biggest thing that I didn't expect going into this book was just how much it would wreck me. I struggled to get into it initially, and found parts of it to be a bit cliched, but still I found myself hooked. It gives a powerful perspective into the horrors of codependency and toxic love, and the portrait that it paints of domestic abuse is shattering.<br />
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At its core, <i>The Great Alone</i> is a book about love, in all of its forms - beautiful, toxic, romantic, platonic, familial. It's about the strength of a community and the love between a mother and a daughter, and it explores falling in love when you aren't sure that you know what real love is. It made me smile, made me angry, and made me think - sometimes all at once.<br />
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<i>The Great Alone</i> isn't a book that I would naturally gravitate towards, nor is it one that I believe I'll end up rereading, but it is one that I'm glad that I read nonetheless.</div>
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<b><i>The Paris Library</i> by Janet Skeslien Charles</b></div>
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You all know how much I love World War II fiction, and I had high hopes for this book, but I have to say that they weren't quite met. While I did enjoy it, it lacked depth, and the immaturity of the characters annoyed me. I did very much like the differing perspectives that the book provided, and loved watching the relationship between Odile and Lily develop - their dynamic kept me reading. As a whole, though, this one fell a bit flat for me. </div>
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These days, my TBR is about a mile long, and I'm desperately trying to read as many as I can before the insanity of the semester starts up again in just a few short weeks. I've got some books stacking up that I'm really excited about, so it will be fun to see what the second half of my 2020 bookshelf looks like!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Currently, I'm juggling <i>Fountains of Silence</i>, <i>Uninvited</i>, and <i>The Engineer's Wife</i>, and my upcoming TBR includes <i>The Book of Lost Names, A Thousand Perfect Notes, The Ministry of Ordinary Places</i>, and <i>The Four Winds</i>. I'm excited dig into them all!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><font size="5"><b><i>What about you? What are you reading these days? What's on your TBR? I'm always down for suggestions (as if I really need them - my TBR is probably going to fall on top of me any day now.) Have you read any of my recent picks? Let's have allllll the bookish chats in the comments below! </i></b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Lato;">♥</span></font></div>
Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-71350841223686773372020-06-29T18:55:00.001-04:002020-06-29T22:09:30.079-04:00The Quarantine Diaries // vol. ii<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMaeBRmWwR01JCe525krtSP1UWi969eYddYEsJl4swFWhH_uOhJWppm0XZqwR2ltgqLoJycop3OhnPaMY6A94LwiVbo_7QyUAzW-vPsEI_4RE0xs24OJ9uLRMMjwZy3WYq8KQQzA2AhL0/s1600/ED40F06C-B1F1-4B27-91E7-417427744461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMaeBRmWwR01JCe525krtSP1UWi969eYddYEsJl4swFWhH_uOhJWppm0XZqwR2ltgqLoJycop3OhnPaMY6A94LwiVbo_7QyUAzW-vPsEI_4RE0xs24OJ9uLRMMjwZy3WYq8KQQzA2AhL0/s1600/ED40F06C-B1F1-4B27-91E7-417427744461.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It will always be mind-boggling to me, I think, how drastically life can change just in a few short months.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://totallygraced.blogspot.com/2020/04/the-quarantine-diaries-vol-i.html">The first post of this series</a> was back at the very end of April, 45 days after the world as a whole turned upside down. A few days after that post, my own world turned upside down, and May quickly became a month that I couldn't wait to say goodbye to. I was just telling my mom earlier today that it honestly feels as though I lost May completely - it was such a mess of a month that anything I may have hoped to do ended up falling through the cracks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Despite the pandemic, the one thing that May did slowly begin to bring back into my life was people. You know how much I love a celebration, and not even a pandemic was going to keep me from dropping off cookie dough and gifts in the driveways of my best friends on their birthdays. Our quarantine birthday celebrations began a cycle of distanced driveway chats and sitting on opposite ends of front porches in the rain. It was far from the normal that we all missed so much, but goodness it was so much better than texting. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Still, May was a month that I definitely did not mind saying goodbye to. I know that different seasons teach us different things, and I know that the Lord taught me (and is still teaching me) so much in and through that month, but I was running towards June with open arms. </span>Going into June, my one prayer was simply for it to be better than May. And by so much grace, it has been.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">June has been the breath of fresh air that I so desperately needed. The mess of May wasn't magically fixed, and the pandemic is honestly only getting worse where I am. But June, despite it all, has been so much better. Lighter. And I'm not going to lie, it's made me a little nervous - </span>I talked about it on my Instagram a few days ago, the fear of hope that comes with better days. The jumpiness, eyeing the concrete warily, waiting for it to split underneath your feet. But in this moment, I can breathe, and for that, I could not be more grateful. I'm grateful for these days of sunshine and twinkle lights, singing worship in the park and dancing under a sunset. June was filled with sunsets, and I can't help but feel that they were a little gift from God, reminding me that good's still here. Laying in the grass and picking flowers, picnic blankets and (distanced) parties and laughing until I couldn't breathe.<br />
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And most wonderful of all - my sister, alongside our best friends, graduated high school, and we got to have a real ceremony on the most beautiful June night. If you're subscribed to <a href="https://blogspot.us20.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=30046a5f14c9a6e864f9ff284&id=3be8444302">the Tuesday Letters</a>, you've already heard that miracle of a story, and maybe soon I'll share it here, too. But for now I'll just say that I could not be more grateful. And maybe July will bring a new set of messes with it, but for now, I'm resting in the goodness of June. And for now, that's enough.<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">the things keeping me sane</span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><b style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;">d o i n g :</b><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- lots of fun graphic design projects. It's been so nice to have time to experiment and make things. :-)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- attempting to clean up my poor laptop. It's crammed to the brim with files and I've been trying to clear it off onto a hard drive to make things more functional. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- lots and lots of obsessing over musicals with Keira</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- journaling again, thank goodness. I had gotten into a great routine with it, and then May majorly threw me off as I just lost all motivation to write. I'm back in the routine of writing every night again, and I love it so.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;"><br /></span></span>- walking walking walking. my mom and I often go on walks in the evenings, once the afternoon heat finally starts to fade, and thanks to social distancing, walking dates at the park are a current favorite way to catch up with friends. </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- photography work!!! between senior photos, some marketing shots for my job with the bookstore, and attempting to re-edit some old work, I've been jumping back into photography as of late, and I can't say that I mind it one bit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">hopefully adding to the list soon: puzzles, pre-fall organizing, working on a fun new blog series, and macrame!<br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><b style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;">w a t c h i n g :</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- so much <i>Madam Secretary</i>, thanks to my dear <a href="https://closetonothingblog.blogspot.com/">Keira</a>. She's gotten me hooked. But seriously, it is so good. If you like political suspense, you're definitely going to want to dive in. The characters are all wonderful, and the writing is just fantastic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- always <i>Frasier</i>, because sometimes, you just need to laugh. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- too many <i>NCIS</i> reruns to count. I'm still not actually through the show - I believe that my sister and I are on season five or six? - but most of May was spent bingeing old episodes that I'd already seen while I worked. Despite being a show revolving around serial killers and terrorists, it's always oddly comforting. Seeing the familiar characters and knowing exactly what's going to happen next is a nice change of pace when the world feels like it's falling apart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- we had a <i>Princess Diaries </i>rewatch, which is always just the best pick-me-up. If you ever want to know why I'm most definitely the best person to watch <i>The Princess Diaries </i>with (aka I've seen it approximately 8000 times and can quote every word), check out <a href="https://twitter.com/Totally_Graced/status/1269087766920470528">my live-tweeting session</a>. :-)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">- my mom + sisters and I are also currently watching the 1995 <i>Pride and Prejudice </i>miniseries. We'd somehow never watched it before, and you already know that I am absolutely thriving. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><b style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;">r e a d i n g :</b><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;">- lots of Psalms and Proverbs. I've kind of been hopping all over in my Bible reading as of late - I've been consistent with it, but not consistent with where I'm reading. Right now I'm in 1 Corinthians for the first time in a while. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);"></span></span><i style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;">- The Assassin's Guide to Love and Treason. </i><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);">This one was an ARC from work. Not a personal favorite, but not a terrible book. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: inherit;">- <i style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);">Attachments </i>by Rainbow Rowell. I'd never read a Rainbow Rowell book, so I wanted to give it a try. It was kind of slow, and again, not an all-time favorite, but it was a really cute premise. Parts of it really hit home, and there were more than a couple highlight-worthy lines. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);">- currently reading </span></span><i style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;">The Paris Library. </i><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);">It's been a bit of a slow start, but I'm hopeful that I'm really going to like it. A World War II novel about books and literature and libraries? You already know I'm in. (update: since adding this to the post, it's already gotten better and I am EXCITED.)</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;">- also currently reading <i style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);">Uninvited</i>. It's been one of the most frequently recommended books in my social </span></span><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);">media feeds over the past few years, and my mom loved it, so I think it's time for me to give it a try. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);">- ALSO currently reading <i>Fountains of Silence </i>by Ruta Sepetys. (I swear I don't typically read this many books at once!) One of my best friends and I are reading it together, so it's been fun to keep the same pace with someone else and have someone to talk to about it as we go!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><b style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;">e a t i n g :</b><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- homemade cinnamon rolls and cinnamon bread, because when you have an abundance of sourdough, why not switch it up?</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- leftover chipwiches from my sister's graduation party</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- allllll the chicken salad. it just tastes like summertime, y'know?</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- nachos have been the latest comfort food of the week, and I'm not complaining</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- hi yes I promise I eat healthy food too but it's just so much more fun to talk about chipwiches than water and peanut butter toast, okay?</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><b style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;">l i s t e n i n g :</b><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- <i>Come From Away</i>. It's</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: inherit;"> incredibly poignant and wonderful. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76);">- so much Ben Rector, per usual. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- <i>The Princess Diaries </i>score, because it's the happiest thing to work to. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- <i>Island Song </i>- forever my favorite underrated musical. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I'm currently attempting to put together a summertime playlist, so drop your favorites in the comments below!</i></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnASrjpHYnd-koAz0fpmfJstrK1ZjlLozE86rESW37uu6aXYRMh_H_Hp3mAazquoIH1jc_4Va8dzwrrtGNbvXALr4RxHWV_ZPBQHg5YRnlAQcehY_CRs1bTYQJ2YUvNkoQIWiHTcuKE6A/s1600/chalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnASrjpHYnd-koAz0fpmfJstrK1ZjlLozE86rESW37uu6aXYRMh_H_Hp3mAazquoIH1jc_4Va8dzwrrtGNbvXALr4RxHWV_ZPBQHg5YRnlAQcehY_CRs1bTYQJ2YUvNkoQIWiHTcuKE6A/s1600/chalk.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><b style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;">m o m e n t s :</b><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- surprising friends on their birthdays - because even if quarantine is a thing, birthday surprises will never die.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- a spontaneous FaceTime call somehow turning into laughing until 3am. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- the sweetest of snail mail surprises from <a href="https://losingthebusyness.wordpress.com/">Hanne</a>, <a href="https://haileyhudson.wordpress.com/">Hailey</a>, and <a href="http://jacyraynunbroken.blogspot.com/">Jacy Rayn</a> that made my days more than they'll ever know.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- so many evenings in June were spent sitting in the grass at our favorite park, </span>rehearsing<span style="font-family: inherit;"> worship music for graduation. </span>The<span style="font-family: inherit;"> sun would just be going down and everything would be golden and the slow, steady strumming of the guitar was the sweetest familiarity.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- finally getting to dance with my favorite person again - the BEST bit of normalcy.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- I had the absolute coolest senior shoot with my sister - she wanted to take photos at the art studio where she grew up, and the building itself is literally COVERED with paint. It's a photographer's dream, I'm telling you. After that, we did field photos at peak golden hour, and then grabbed some shots downtown with different flowering bushes. It was quite the adventure of a day, and so fun. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- "senior night out" (aka takeout cheesecake at the park) with my favorite people the night before they graduated. the highest of highs and the lowest of lows have been with them, and laughing with them will always be my favorite.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">- sitting under the twinkle lights in my backyard, staring up at the stars.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: inherit;"><i>I hope you're all hanging in there and staying safe, my sweet friends. Whatever this season has looked </i><i>like</i><i> for you, I hope that you see so much good as we head into this </i><i>next</i><i> month. Wherever you're at with it all, know that I'm just an email or a DM away. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;"><i>Check in time: how's life been treating you? </i></span></span><i style="caret-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); color: #4c4c4c;">What has been keeping you sane? Any book/movie/show/podcast/song recommendations? How can I be praying for you?</i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Until next time. </i><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">♥</span></span></i></div>
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Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-85879663358920855242020-06-08T00:59:00.002-04:002020-06-08T00:59:45.904-04:00wishing you clear skies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBiXFdNkFCmnlnCU7gaDdaj6K_etNvj2nnBmTwrdl2yLNLN-cbh3Lk5sE8o0T1AmiG6tzX372vYfevKR_LByNNwpK02co59hTjQBxF5WaNJC6FuNyu1BcUhJ48lgVEmWBB6BbSGpkRJVE/s1600/IMG_0103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBiXFdNkFCmnlnCU7gaDdaj6K_etNvj2nnBmTwrdl2yLNLN-cbh3Lk5sE8o0T1AmiG6tzX372vYfevKR_LByNNwpK02co59hTjQBxF5WaNJC6FuNyu1BcUhJ48lgVEmWBB6BbSGpkRJVE/s1600/IMG_0103.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">is there anything better than a summer sunset?</td></tr>
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The summer that I was fourteen, I fell in love with <i>Every Soul a Star </i>by Wendy Mass.</div>
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It's a sweet middle grade novel about what happens when an eclipse brings three kids together for a brief but extraordinary moment. It's a book about friendship and change and hope, and I love it more than I can say. I've read it every summer since, and it's one of my favorite traditions.<br />
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Because the book centers around an eclipse, a lot of the story revolves around astronomy and stargazing. If you know anything about stargazing, you know that it's something that can only really be done on a clear night. Only when the sky is clear can you truly see the beauty of the heavens for all it's worth. <br />
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The hope for clear skies turns into a catchphrase of sorts. "I wish you clear skies," the characters say as they part. I always loved that. "I wish you clear skies." It's the purest hope, wishing clear skies for another.<br />
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These days in particular, I find myself praying more and more for clear skies, for rivers in the wasteland. We all know that it's been a heavy few months, and if I'm being honest, I have to admit that the hard and the heavy have been overtaking me more often than not.<br />
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Hope and light and encouragement can be hard to find. But I am infinitely grateful for the fact that within this creative community, I constantly see people every day working to put out just that - hope. For every post that goes across my screen that makes me want to completely throw in the towel, there never fails to be another one that does just the opposite. And I am so grateful for that. I'm so grateful to be surrounded by people who aren't content with what is but who are fighting for more.<br />
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Eleven months ago, I decided to jump in alongside them and begin something that, while many of you already know about, I've somehow never properly announced here on the blog before. (Apparently I need to work on the whole self-promotion thing).<br />
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The Tuesday Letters came about as the result of a litany of contrasting emotions - a love for letters, a detestation of Tuesdays, and a need for hope. Inspired by some incredible women that I'm going to be linking at the end of this post, the Tuesday Letters are a weekly encouragement email that I send out in the hopes of making the world feel even just a bit lighter. They're filled with everything from my crazy theatre stories to reflections on the craziness that we live in to what the Lord is teaching me as of late.<br />
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I've talked about ballet, and how <a href="https://mailchi.mp/01e91a1c0166/5-lessons-from-the-barre"><b>sometimes the barre can teach you a lot more than just pliés</b></a>. I've talked about <a href="https://mailchi.mp/0f4f32c5305b/8-the-ones-who-make-room"><b>community</b></a>, and <a href="https://mailchi.mp/bb698c9c2d5c/12-again-and-again"><b>faithfulness</b></a>, and about how <a href="https://mailchi.mp/a9cf80922e46/14-tickticktick">s<b>ometimes I relate to Captain Hook just a little too much</b>. </a>More often than not, <a href="https://mailchi.mp/3c111aa2c50e/29-its-not-a-one-time-thing" style="font-weight: bold;">I talk about grace</a>, because it's the most important thing of all.<br />
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When I was first beginning to put this project together, I knew that I needed some sort of theme or motto to tie it all together, and that familiar phrase popped into my head - "wishing you clear skies". Because at the crux of it, that's what I hope that the Tuesday Letters are: a reminder that someone somewhere is rooting for you, cheering you on, and praying you see clear skies. When there isn't a clear solution and everything feels all tangled up, sometimes you just need a bit of encouragement to help you face it all, and it's always my hope that these letters can be that for you.<br />
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The Tuesday Letters have become a really incredible community, and I'm forever grateful to you all for that. You have no idea how much it truly makes my day to see your names pop up in my inbox after I send out a Tuesday Letter, and how grateful I am to get to know you. It is the absolute greatest privilege to get to hear your stories, and I hope you know that I don't take that lightly for a second.<br />
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So if you haven't joined in on the Tuesday Letters yet, I would definitely encourage you to head up to the link in the right hand corner of my blog and hit "subscribe", or hey - <a href="https://blogspot.us20.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=30046a5f14c9a6e864f9ff284&id=3be8444302">just click here</a>. I would so love to have you as a part of this community.<br />
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And if you're in need of a little extra light, I want to point you towards some truly incredible humans who are doing some amazing things. I think that we all need to be reminded of the good that still remains, and these people will remind you just that.<br />
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<b><a href="https://www.instagram.com/allthingslillyann/">All Things Lilly Ann</a></b></div>
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one of the absolute sweetest, most positive people. graphic design and the cutest shop you ever did see.</div>
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<b><a href="https://closetonothingblog.blogspot.com/">Keira at Close to Nothing</a></b></div>
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i just love her so. the most talented photographer whose writing is so genuine and true.</div>
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<b><a href="https://www.hannahbrenchercreative.com/">Hannah Brencher</a></b></div>
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there are few people on the planet that inspire me more than hannah brencher. everything that she creates is filled with truth. <a href="https://view.flodesk.com/pages/5d8e20143b90eb0010f118b0">her monday club emails</a> were one of the biggest inspirations to me as i was creating the concept of the tuesday letters. </div>
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<a href="http://www.withrisa.com/"><b>Joanne at With Risa</b></a></div>
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joanne's writing has been some of my absolute favorite throughout this quarantine. she has a thoughtfulness and poignancy to her words that i adore.</div>
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<b><a href="https://www.instagram.com/writtentospeak/">Tanner Olson at Written to Speak</a></b></div>
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i discovered written to speak a few months ago and have fallen in love with tanner's writing. he writes with such a hope, and his theme of "i'm just happy to be here" always makes me smile.</div>
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<b><a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/22dXp4IL4MYut743GQlCie?si=y4OGVgJ9QACiKFVtacOAAw">The Kate and Abbie Show</a></b></div>
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how could i talk about positivity without mentioning these two incredible humans? they inspire me endlessly and i couldn't be prouder of all they do.</div>
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<b><a href="https://www.instagram.com/humansofny/">Brandon Stanton at Humans of New York</a></b></div>
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throughout this entire process, the humans of new york account has been sharing #quarantinestories, stories that have been sent in full of love and hope. i get so excited when brandon's daily post pops up on my feed - there have been some incredibly special stories.</div>
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<i>I hope you're hanging in there through it all. Know some awesome people working to make the world a brighter place? Send them my way - I'd love to check them out. :-) Wishing you clear skies today and everyday, friends. </i></div>
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Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320942197228255807.post-49258826027590130342020-05-07T22:42:00.000-04:002020-05-07T22:42:08.617-04:00paintings from the lens<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Xf2olr7KxE8P-ndeNA-XlB-sUvLskPYUKHSGB_KnF2lNG5HMse4vtoCkIyWOralrGs7NeJgkRCNsNrC5bjxZRhB4ykY_3PKzq4HYjmcoOppmd4u3dP6Fc2wGLve7ebflIzHnKH1Tm30/s1600/A510708E-66B9-447B-9864-F17ECC1121B0+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="747" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Xf2olr7KxE8P-ndeNA-XlB-sUvLskPYUKHSGB_KnF2lNG5HMse4vtoCkIyWOralrGs7NeJgkRCNsNrC5bjxZRhB4ykY_3PKzq4HYjmcoOppmd4u3dP6Fc2wGLve7ebflIzHnKH1Tm30/s1600/A510708E-66B9-447B-9864-F17ECC1121B0+copy.jpg" width="450" /></a></div>
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The days are quiet now.<br />
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The grass crunches under my feet. I can still hear the traffic, but it sounds different today. Is it different, or am I just different?<br />
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I spend a lot of time in my bedroom these days. Black and white photographs paint the walls with memories. I find my eyes dancing across the images, no matter how many times I've seen them.<br />
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I am twelve in the oldest shot, hugging my best friend. I'm covered in fake dirt, filled with naiveté, and I am in my first musical. My dad drives me home that night and I lean into the back stead with no knowledge of what the future holds, but filled with joy and the strange but distinct knowledge this is it. I don't know what "it" is - I won't for another six years - but I feel settled in a way that I can't describe.<br />
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To the right of that photo, I am fifteen and surrounded by girls in prom dresses. I don't talk to most of the girls in that photo anymore, but it will always be one of my favorites because they helped me to grow. They made me feel a little less small and a little more seen, and that means a lot at any age, but especially when you're fifteen and stick to the corners. But they make a fuss over you and you dance all night, and find that you're a little less scared than you were before.<br />
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A few rows down is an array of photos all from the same season. I am seventeen and laughing in every single one. Laughing as I stand next to the boy who I've known since we were both in glasses, because he always makes fun of the way that I stand, one foot tucked behind the other. I tell him that old dance habits die hard, and he mimics the pose as the camera flashes, and now we're both laughing. Laughing the night of my graduation as I'm surrounded by my best friend from the seventh grade and the two boys who grew up by our sides. We were all in that first musical together, and they will always be family. Laughing in a cluster of people all falling on top of one another as we try for a group photo on the last day of high school. It's messy and dysfunctional and it's perfect.<br />
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Now I am nineteen. I stand in the grass, camera in hand. I'm waiting on my sister because quarantine or not, we're taking her senior photos. We stand under my grandparents' cherry tree, and I peer through the lens that has painted so many of my life's most beautiful memories. The people scattered across my walls are an anchor and a heartbeat, and while some relationships have flourished and others decayed, they are the paintings I treasure all the same. I raise the camera.<br />
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It's time to paint again.<br />
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<i>Some words from April's #escapril challenge that are especially close to my heart. For more nostalgia-filled prose, shameless plug to check out<a href="https://www.instagram.com/totallygraced/"> my Instagram</a> for lots more where that came from. :-)</i></div>
Grace Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07864931544458385634noreply@blogger.com19