February 11, 2008

[lately, for some reason, i have been repeatedly reminded of the one funny summer i spent in skagway, alaska. i am not sure what, exactly, is drawing these memories to the forefront of my mind. it could be the anticipation of another summer away or it could be my longing for rest like i knew there, but for whatever reason i have been remembering, appreciating, and missing that little place. i wrote this while i was there. as i re-read it tonight i realized…it was the firstborn of documented “holy moments.” i like that. it’s been a while since i was there…but the memories of that place continue to carry with them the healing that my soul found there.]

i just wanted to be bake. i wanted an hour tonight to be alone…with a wooden spoon, some tasty ingredients and my thoughts. i suppose i selfishly wanted to feel a bit normal – to pretend i was at home with all that is familiar. yet tonight something altogether different has happened. i am not alone. the cookies i’ve created are flat and disappointing. the dough tastes fine, though, delicious in fact, and my belly aches from my over-indulgence. outside the lawn is spotted with unattractive, yet functional, bicycles. ordinary people are strumming guitars and i listen as their voices muddle their way through verses they are uncertain of. i am sitting here in the corner filling postcards with words in an attempt to share my current life with friends back home. the sound of a soccer ball against bare feet directs my attention out there once again. those boys from tennessee have just arrived on their unattractive, yet functional, bicycles. their skinned up knees remind me that they were friends as children. conversation is being shared out there through words spoken too softly for me to hear…suddenly the murmur breaks into laughter and faces are covered with smiles. inside i have just pulled out the last tray of cookies from the oven. the kitchen is warm and the scents of peanut butter and oatmeal fill the air. in this very moment your presence overwhelms me. in this typical, ordinary evening you are close. there is nothing formal about it – nothing religious – and yet you are here – the stuff of you is all around. life. life so rich it would be outrageous to believe it came from anyone other than the giver of good gifts. friendship. laughter. voices singing. belly aches and skinned knees. delicious treats [however flat and disappointing in appearance]. bare feet on cold grass. not to mention the magnificent, snow-capped backdrop. all of this – a reflection of the grace you offer each imperfect person present. the peace welling up inside me carries me to a place of thankfulness. gratefulness. rest. hope. longing for more of this.


2 Responses to “gold.”

  1. Garrett said

    that was one hell of a summer and it would not have been the same unless you were part of it. we should go back…one day…someday…or just keep revisiting the place in our memories.

  2. Lindsey said

    my, my. i love your blog. it makes me feel selfish that i get to read your innermost thoughts and revel in them, jealous that i long to write like you and it comes out with all the wrong words, and awestruck that i have a friend with this much talent, insight and the patience to see the beauty in everything. in turn, i see the beauty in you.

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