On being home.

Its been so nice to be home lately, but only for the sole reason that I've missed my parents and the community that I have in them.

I don't fully hate this town, hate is even too strong of a word these days.

But there is still something to be said about a lack of authenticity around here, and an excess of arrogance...which makes sense why I was the way I was for so long.

I think the best thing that's happened to me was moving out and realizing that home really is where my heart is, not my person.

I love that I can rest in that hope, home is where my heart is...not where I am physically, and I'm more than excited for the day that my home and my location are lined up.

Another thing other than the idea of home thats been on the forefront of my mind lately, is this idea that I'm not perfect. I mean, I've grown up hearing and trying to believe it, but it never stopped me from striving for it.

Well, lately that idea has been beyond shattered in my mind and life and I've never felt more freedom from it in my life. Its wonderful :)

This summer and the fact that I'll be in another country loving people in the name of Jesus has a lot to do with this though. Absolutely.

I'm going to be with a team of people who aren't expecting perfection by any means, but devotion. Not that every step is the right one, but that my heart behind my steps is pure and desiring to honor the Lord.

I'm not too worried, except for the fact that I don't want to feel judged and I want to break that idea immediately.

I've got all these fears and ideas bouncing around my head, and I'd like them to stop for a second and just breathe so I can do the same.

Dear summer,

I once asked you to break my heart for what the Lord breaks for but to leave my legs so I can at least stand. I'm still desiring the same heart for this summer.

Go easy on me, I'm not super woman.

Love, Sam.

I am my father's daughter.

You love me, you really love me.

I have an amazing dad, and empowering dad. One who loved me so well that I didn't have to heal bridges and wounds in order to successfully receive from my heavenly father. I have a dad who didn't let a day go by without saying "still one more."

No, he's not perfect, but his love for me is.

I have an amazing dad. We have an amazing Father.

The rain poured so hard tonight.

"When your heavenly father rains down on you, its not like you can rain back at him. So, just stand in it. Receive it. Dance in it!"

I got home earlier tonight, and my dad gave me his old bible that he found when going through stuff (along with the cleaner's receipt that my mom wrote her name and number down for him the nigh they met. He kept it! Such a romantic...its where I get it from) and in his bible, he had Psalm 119:11 marked and noted. Just like mine. Just like my heart.

I am my father's daughter, and I love every aspect of that.

Sheesh, Jesus, you're so freaking cool.

Hosanna.

Ma armastan sind, Eesti.

Oh man. Oh man, oh man.

My heart is soaring, and I can't wait to be in Estonia.
The weather is beautiful and today I had a perfect moment that I'm choosing to keep for a while.

I walked up to my house after having a wonderful morning/afternoon and I saw a dandielion...you know, the one's that you blow all the little things off and make a wish. So, I stood in the sunlight just before the shadow that my nostaligic green house makes on the sidewalk, made a wish, took a deep breath, and didn't stop exhaling until every floating piece was off the stem. I stood there for a bit, spun around once or twice, taking in the suns rays that for a while I didn't believe I deserved, and realized just how blessed I am.

Goodness, it was perfect.
I'm going to trust this for a little bit.

So, this is my heart lately.

I have this friend named Jacob who has a wonderfully authentic view of life, love, redemption, hope, and roots. So, here's what he has to say and beautifully took the words out of my mouth.

"2/7/10: My waffle house romance observations

Two booths at Waffle House other than mine.
One has two couples, four friends.
I'll admit that I'm nosy when it comes to people watching, so I listen to them.
Dropping serious discussion topics for college seniors.
"His career." "Starting a family." "Saving money."
Both girls had rings on their fingers.
Recently engaged.
No physical interaction? His arm is halfway draped around her on the edge of the booth. One girl grabs her fiance's arm during the conversation.
But rings on fingers mean's love. They're in love?
Planning for the future. Homes, jobs, careers, families, bank accounts, forms, papers, taxes.

Booth two. Have they stopped staring at each other since they walked in?
Enormous, goofy grins.
He keeps stepping on her toes under the table, on purpose.
She kicks him back.
He jokes about something quietly, she bursts with the most annoying, loving laughter.
He smiles and can't help but chuckle at her.
Her face crinkles in a playful, posed frown, but she knows why he's laughing at her.
She knows how he feels, she knows she makes him smile.

The all leave.
First the two couples, then the one.
Six people leaving.
Three men pay checks.
Two of the men shake hands.
Two of the women hug and say, "Goodbye!"
Two cars driving off to plan their lives.
But one guy and one girl laugh and stumble off to their car.
He gives her a push and runs off, slowly, as if he wanted to be caught.
She catches him, punches him. He lifts her in the air. And they laugh.

Rings are metal and rocks. "Engaged" and "fiancee" are words, created by people.
But love is love, and romance is romance. Feelings are feelings, more than words, actions.
Second booth, please."

Second booth, please indeed.

annndd, we're done.

Sometimes I just need to remind myself that love shouldn't be conditional, and neither should my mood.

My hope isn't in man, but the Lord.

"I must pull myself together, this is a brand new day." - Bryce Avary

as tangible as I can make it, here's my heart.

So I write a lot about the house I live in because it really just captivates my heart.

The smells, the colors, the way the light comes in through my huge windows. The way I can hear anything and everything on my porch, the sidewalk, and the street I live on. The huge sliding doors I have, the porch swing that I can't wait to rest on when it gets warmer out.

The way the foundation has settled and the entire house is crooked, my kitchen and how it all encompasses a mix of the beauty of its old age, and the newness of the parts that are renovated; redeemed. Not to mention, since I've rearranged my room, I wake up to the sunlight on my face every day. I love that, I don't like to feel like I'm racing the sun. I could go on for a while about it, I'm simply in love with it. It makes me excited for the old house I get to own and live in one day; the house I get to make my home.

I've found such a comfort in the high ceilings and old wood floors. It feels so quaint, and lately I feel that I'm really starting to see what people mean when they tell me I have an old soul. I've been told that so much, and I've never really found a beauty in it until now. I've had this peaceful and giddy feeling. Like I'm in love with something I once loved but became comfortable with. I've re-kindled a love with simplicity.

I began this blog from something a friend once said to me about being at peace, and holding onto nothing; peace & empty hands. I've found a love, or rather re-found a love for that very idea: peace and empty hands. I've found such a love in imperfection, and I've fallen deeper into a love with the God of the universe. I have butterflies, and I feel like flying. I feel like I should feel when I'm in love, and I'm beginning to wonder if what I've felt before with so many people, so many relationships, was actually love.

In such a beautiful and broken way, I don't think it was.

The Lord, my father, has been showing me so much about what it means to be loved. I've never felt so loved in my entire life as I have been lately. I've seen the Lord's love for me in the way my house makes me feel, the way coffee smells, the way the air smells in Milledgeville after a good rain. He's shown me love in the way that I deeply miss my sister. He's shown me love in the way that I desire so deeply to see Him face to face. He's shown me love in the excitement I get when I think about Bethany and Julia's future husbands. He's shown me love in thinking about what it will be like to hug Jesus. Ugh, that gets me every time. Think about it: hugging the very being that created you and loves you for all that you are simply because He made you. Not because of anything you've done, not done, or do. Sheesh.

Recently, I took a 6 hour road trip to spend a few days with some awesome guys in Nashville. My whole life I've been "one of the guys" and since I've lived in Milledgeville, I actually have legit friends that are girls and care about my heart and get my in ways that my guy friends can't, but it was so nice to spend some time being "one of the guys" again. Its nice to know my brothers need and appreciate me. Thats something I don't get a lot in Milledgeville, and definitely not back home. When I think about being back home there isn't one thing that resembled a shred of community, and that absolutely breaks my heart more that I can explain.

But, thats besides the point. When I was in Nashville, I got to be a sister for my brother, Luke. Goodness, I missed him. I made new friends, and felt an excitement for the rest of my life, not to mention an affirmation that I'm going to move to Nashville when I graduate. I love it there, my heart is placed all over this world: Milledgeville, Nashville, and Estonia. I wish I could be in all three at once.

I suppose now I'm just putting everything thats been on my heart lately into text. I love it. I makes me feel real. Authenticity is something thats lacking in our world, in our communities, and in our friends. So much so that I really don't like going back to John's Creek or Forsyth anymore. I hope the places where my heart is never lose that. It would break me.

Here's what I wrote in my journal last night. I believe that it sums up where I am. In my journal, when I write in cursive, its when I write what I feel that the Lord is speaking over me. For this though, I'll make it italicized. So, here it is:

"I WANT TO HUG YOU.

I WANT TO SEE YOU FACE TO FACE.

I'm due for a LOVE and I won't close my eyes until I find it.

But I'm going to meet you with open eyes; tired and poor with a thorn in my side.

You knew when to pick us off the vine, you'll know when to make our colors bleed together.

All of this waiting in sweetening your heart.

I'd love to see your face, and finally find a place

Only spirits make better wine.

remember 'How to: learn to be loved.'

You're at the 'wait. wait. wait.' part.

I can do this.

you can do this."

I can, and I believe that.

2/12/10

The past few mornings I've woken up to the smell of coffee and felt new.

I love it, it goes a long with this old house so perfectly. I wake up to rain, cars driving by, old wood, and coffee. Its a beautiful thing really, and I'm learning to take it all in.

Last night I went to this thing called transition. Its a college ministry at my aunt and uncle's church in Snellville.

Long story short: I've been a name without an action: a christian, since I was in the fifth grade. But I've been a fire with an action: a believer, for the last five years. And last night was the first time in those five years that I feel like I have genuinely received and encountered the living God. As I say that, I can think back to moments where it seemed similar, but last night I was overcome with the joy and victory that I have in the Lord.

I genuinely believe that I'm free.

That I'm victorious.

That the Lord loves me despite everything I've done and do.

That in the midst of my brokenness, and in the midst of this broken and hurting world that a light has come, and His name is Jesus.

Yeah sure, it sounds cheesy, but cheesy things are cheesy for a reason: they work.

It sucks how I can't escape discouragement, though. I know I'm free, but people around me still make me feel like I'll never be good enough, like I'll never have truly enough love to be able to help people or love others. Like it seems out of reach and no matter what I do, or what I say or what I may actually be feeling, it means nothing and nothing changes.

Those are lies that I'm trying not to believe, but it seems impossible when the very surroundings where you feel safe are the very ones that discourage you.

All I can say is Jesus, and thats enough.

I pray that I can be enough.