tonight we went to our favorite pasta shoppe for my 
brother's last night in town, victoria's. 
this is a place that everyone from norman holds near 
and dear to their heart. 
glad my brother could be here for the best christmas yet. 
i love you, jamie. 




this amazing story was written by andrew.
watch out, it might just change the way you view
this life we live. 

We knock on the door and enter in,
only to find that the rooms are empty there. No food on the table to sustain us,
no table at all. But we have entered nonetheless,
searching room     to room    for something
anything.

But the whole house is empty.
However this house is close, it is here and now,
we have no reason to leave, let's continue too look.
And look, and wander through this house.
 Until a voice calling out from the fields. 
 It is a voice we somehow 
know we can trust.
 We run to the window and peer outside. 
There is life growing in the fields,
there is light stretching across the horizon, 
it is good. 
But we have wondered so long in this
old, dark house that the way has been lost.
Frantically we go room to room,
looking for a way out.
How could we have been so blind to enter this place?
Who would be so foolish?
Certainly only a mistake someone
like me
could make.

Yet we and I are here, now searching for a way out.
Time and time again each door swings open to another dark room,
dust and emptiness.
The silence in the hallways seems to mock us for coming here.
Every corner echoes with regret...

In time, we begin to forget what the voice calling us sounded like.
We begin, to give up.
This place is empty, but at least its a place.
No room has ever satisfied but at least we explore on and on through the empty rooms.
Maybe we will stay. Others have lived like this, so shall we.
    Its time to rest. So much
walking, wandering, searching, does make one weary after some time. 
We crouch in a corner, making the solitude our bed. 
With knees tucked to our chest and arms around them we try to sleep. 
But alone in our beds we remember. 
We remember that this place is not enough.
We have no purpose here.
We look around at the plastered walls and the
empty floors. 
We imagine the room filled. Enamored artwork and elaborate woodwork.
Smells of good food and sounds of life resonate.
It seems so real.
We could do this. We could make ourselves believe this place to be more.
Say it is so and claim it for our own!
Work together for a better tomorrow, this we will do.
Up from our beds of solitude we endeavor to make something of our situation.
With all powers of imagination we build ourselves a kingdom here.
Close our eyes and count to ten, don't open them till someone says when.
In our minds we live in a finished mansion now, it seems good.
    But it is so far from good. For even in our mansion of imagination we must sleep.
And as we lie down to sleep, sometimes we forget to keep our eyes closed
and we see things again they way they really are. 
We see the emptiness that is true to each one of us living here.
Sometimes we weep in this.
Sometimes we just try to quickly close our eyes once again and forget the
nothing    we feel. 
We always try to hope, we don't always succeed. 
   On some days when we are walking through our mansion,
nibbling away at food for thought which never amounts to anything,
someone finds the window.
but scared of hope or scared of change no one really sees it.
They know it is there though,
even with closed eyes you still hear that voice.
The voice calling from the fields, from the something more.
I know I do not like that voice anymore.
It touches to deeply, pulls too hard.
I am happy here! Are we not all happy here?
I do not need your call!
Let me be, for I have my kingdom here in which I find my comfort.
So leave this room with the window.
Next room we enter into and the voice,
that churning inside tearing at something I know not what,
is quieter now.
           Next room...quieter still.
                          Next room...silence.
                                       Silence from that lying, ignorant....
                                                           just peace and silence.
                                             I hate it.
         .. but I will never tell you that.
I will not tell you how much I hurt in this silence.
I...we, many of us, have lived here long enough to make you think this is our home,
and why should that be changed?

   Go now to our beds, to sleep and meet another day,
yet going and dreading the chance of remembering what we want to forget. 
Perhaps sleep will come easily. 
   But this night is different, it is worse than I have known.
I cannot close my eyes. All around I see this place for what it is.
Why?
I just want to sleep and dream no more of something more!
I have tried to find a way out!
Those first days when I heard the voice I did everything I could!
Life...what do you want of me?
Truth..why do you haunt me?
If the way is here I do not know it!
 "The way is here."
  I know that voice.
"The way is here."
   Who are you?
 "The way."

 This voice I've heard, but it is so close now, like I've never heard it before.
Who it belongs to I cannot see, but they are near now.
Footsteps.        They are moving.
I follow the way.
     Out of this room,
                                                           through that door,
      this way
                                                                                          and that way
    he leads me. 

Before long it is to a place i have not known before;
A narrow
    hallway
        I had
        not seen
            despite
               many
                 years
                    here.
                    The way leads me
                       down
                          this path....and as we walk I ponder...
...all these years here, was this path here all that time? 
   I cannot help but think that the voice calling me from outside was really calling me
from a void within myself.
And every door I shut going from room to room 
was a door in my own heart. 
My imaginary mansion seems so fickle now.
How could I have been so silly to walk those empty halls. 
Why did I even come here in the first place? 
I scold myself for my blindness,
clenching my fists, gritting my teeth, with tears in my eyes
regret swells inside me. I close my eyes in pain. 

  "Hey!"
 The voice startles my thoughts
 "Keep your eyes on me"
  I can't.
  "I am the truth, not those lies you see behind closed eyes." 
  I trust this truth, somehow i do. And I follow onward.
Down the narrow path.
I follow the way, believing the truth, in faith moving forward in the life here and to come.
Because He came to me.





I do feel so blessed to be reuniting with my family 
this Christmas once again. 
I will be home tomorrow. 

I look forward to...

1. Christmas movies with loved ones.
2. Baking cookies with my Daddy. 
3. Spending time with my Brover.
4. Running errands with my Mama. 
5. Cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. 

Here's to hoping the weather is warm. 
[a few photos from christmas last year]


i wrote my one and only final this morning. 
i cannot believe how quickly this semester has come and gone. 

after trudging home in the snow i came home to a very 
nice surprise awaiting me in my mailbox...

my visa is finally here. 
all the waiting and praying has finally paid off. 

it is amazing how much i can worry about something
that is so totally out of my control. 
and how God is so completely in control. 

i will be home on friday. 



There were blueberries and pine cones there.
The sweetest smell of lavender floats into my room.
Big ornate frames leaned up against white washed walls.
Empty, to the naked eye, even shabby. 
A mantle with small treasures perched conspicuously. 

Nature within grasp.

First there was a queen size brass bed with colorful, tattered 
quilts. Then two mattresses stacked one on top of the other
placed on the ground, over them, a fort made from blankets. 
The magical coverings that kept out the cold. 

Branches everywhere. 

Hardwood floors cold on one's bare feet. 
Piping hot tea steaming in a clay mug. 
A wreath of red berries on the door. 

A fireplace crackling near by providing warmth on 
an English winter's day.
Little tiny feet patter toward me on the hard wood.


The other day my roommates and I went on a date. 
I am ashamed to admit the things that went on 
during this date because both are somewhat out of
character. 

We started out with a McDonald's adventure.
If you know me, you know that it is against everything
I am to eat McDonald's...
Nonetheless, I tried my first Big Mac. 
I quite enjoyed it but it left me feeling pretty
gross when thinking about the fact that I ingested
over half a normal day's calories in one sitting.  

We ended the night seeing the new Twilight movie...
I am ashamed to admit that I enjoyed it as well.

A walk on the wild side was probably 
a good thing for me, but it would be best if these nights of
guilty pleasures were few and far between. 



i can't get over how pretty this is. 
was winter always as magic as this?

smokey boxes that act as runes and 
shiny boxes you shake for clues.


"I desire Your will above mine."

What a powerful statement. 
This past month I have been learning what it truly means 
to desire God's will above my own. 

I am in a place now where I truly want what 
God wants for me. It has been a hard road to walk and I know 
it won't be the last time I struggle with trying to be in control...

I want to be in this place
always, I want to die to my own desires to better 
live with God's desires in my heart. 

I want only what He wants for me. 
I long to be like clay in my Father's hands, being shaped
to look more like His Son. 

I want to live with hands open,
in that place where God can give but more importantly
He can also take away from me and all 
the while I will praise Him and know that He has the best for me.

"My heart is content with You.
You are the greatest love story every told. 
The greatest love ever known. 
You are forever my judge and I am forever your witness.
And I pray that I am always found on a mission about 
my Father's business. 
I will always be Yours. 
And I will always wait for You, Lord.
'More than the watchmen wait for the morning,
more than the watchmen wait for 
the morning I will wait.'" 


Powered by Blogger.