C: Hi. It’s my turn to blabber…

Being Honest: I’m in a bad mood. Why? I don’t know. Do I have to know? I thought being an emotional person was enough to get out of answering anything like that. My bad.

And why do we spell honest the way we do? It’s one of those words that you write and then think you spelled wrong because it looks funny… Ugh. It tricks me every. single. time.

Eating: Milano Double Chocolate Cookies.

Need I say more???

What’s Awesome: When I “tweet” about being in a bad mood and eating cookies and then someone replies saying

“you need a big mug o’ joe to go with those cookies! :)”.

Truth is, I’d make a “mug o’ joe”… if I knew how to work our new coffee machine.

Listening To: A prophetic word I received a little less than a year ago. It’s good to go back and listen.

I was going to play it last night as I was falling asleep but L and J were busy chatting away and talking so loud that listening to anything was absolutely pointless.

Excited For: My new nail polish that I received in my Christmas stocking. It’s a terracotta/salmon color… Similar to the wall color in the bottom right picture. Pretty, right?

Have a peachy Thursday…. Wait. Today is Thursday, right?

I don’t know. I’m all mixed up.

Have a peachy — life.

J: The words of a friend.

Meet my friend Hannah:

She is a writer. a brilliant writer. And one of the coolest girls i know. What you’ll read next is something she did as a spoken word. She does other really cool things too though. So when you have a few moments please please check out her blog.

anyway, Please enjoy this (i know i did!)-

If I sink back into the shoes of my 7-year-old self, sequined to the mark the debut of the church’s Christmas Pageant, then I was the star of the show.

The top of the program. Signing autographs outside the dressing room until the sun kissed down behind the hills.

I. Was. A Shepherd.

A sheet on my head. A staff in my hand. Standing off to the side of a stage just like this.

Should have been staring up at the sky, up a Tiny Tinfoil Star Tied Tight to a Spot Light. A galactic ball of energy that, when stripped down to the bare-boned simplicity of it all, simply whispered, “Follow.” To shepherds like me, counting sheep to pass the time. Follow. A King is Born. A King is Born.

But instead I stared at Mary with a beady-eyed look of Envy Perched up in my Pupils as a I craved to be the one to stand shaking in my sandals as a Golden-Glinted Gabriel stood by a kettle in my kitchen and told me I would birth a baby.

A baby born with ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes & one nose. Just to Save a Soul Like Me.

And some would call him Son of Man, and you might say E-Man-Nu-El. But for right now, let’s just call him Baby. Baby, let’s just call him Jesus.

I’d have traded all my Christmas presents to be the one to stand with the pink bed sheet on my head and the pastor’s baby in my arms. I’d have cradled that baby & rocked it. The way the New York City Transit Line Rocks a Thousand Single Tired Souls to Sleep in Just One Sitting.

I’d have swallowed every rule in swaddling until… until I realized the Mandatory Matter of the Mary in the Manger that Night. For she would be the one to go out to find the words to pair with the teeny, tiny words that she collected so furiously like sea glass to somehow form a lullaby.

A lullaby.

Which is really just a Single-Stranded Melody for a King that Deserves a Symphony.

I would have slid down from the back of the donkey, a sweaty little boy whose name was really Teddy, and we all knew he wanted to be a wise man but he got down on Hands & Knees to Carry a Marry to a Bethlehem that Didn’t Know Her.

Wait, I would have said. And poured out into a crowd of people just like this, to as people Just Like You.. And You..

What do I say? And how do I sing? Because my vocal chords aint strong enough and I’ve not got the bones of Billie Holiday, and my breath? It just aint thick enough to Sing a Song for the Son of Man, E-Man-Nu-El.

I’d have searched until I found the one to pull me in by the pink bed sheet on my head and say,

Mary, you be strong. And Mary, Don’t You Cry. And don’t you doubt these aching, breaking arms of yours. For your knees might shake, but your arms are strong. And they? Well, they were made to cradle a King.

You suck in your breath, you pull back your shoulders, and you sing for the baby whose cries will crack the mountaintops. You sing for the child who already knows all his Little Children and has the Holes in His Hands to prove he loves them so.

Be you 7-years-old, a shepherd staring up at the sky, or someone standing on a stage just like this. Wishing she had more to give her King than a Single-Stranded Melody for the One that Deserves a Symphony.

Still, you suck in your breath, you pull back your shoulders, and you sing.

C: shoes with festive decor

Yesterday was family shopping.

L brought her camera, but I’m pretty sure she only took one photo… woot woot.

Whatever.

—

A while back L came home from a short trip with some consignment shop finds. Goodies for her and a couple for me.

These shoes were one of my “gifts”.

Some crazy flats with CHRISTMAS TREES ON THEM that she expected me to wear.

But I guess she knows me well…’cause I’m wearing them right now.

Yay for funky shoes that make a day pathetically entertaining.

L: Umm.. guys?

You guys, I have a problem.

-

I bought another - another – pair of shoes. But seriously, how cute are these shoes??

*Please forgive the annoyingly dirty mirror. We really do clean it… it just doesn’t want to be clean.

L: family.

This is my family. It’s small these days, but, really?

I LOVE THEM.

Look at Little Brother’s head. It’s the perfect head to give noogies to (and you know it). And look at how tall C is! I’m wearing 4.5 inch heels and she’s wearing flats and she still beats me by at least 2 inches. She grew up too fast, if you ask me. Too, too fast.

And those two people on the right? Yeah… they’re my favorite. There’s really not a lot to say regarding how much I love them because, well, I JUST LOVE THEM a lot. They’ve given me the best family, the best home, allowed me to do some crazy things (how often do parents send their 14 year old little girls off to Spain for a month?) and taught me about Jesus. Does it get any better than that?

I wish you were in my family picture, too. Because, really? There’s not a better family in the world.

P.S. I’m totally biased. But I’m pretty positive all my reasoning is backed up by a lot of evidence. So biased or not, they are the best family… in my opinion. =)