True Love

How poor and weak the love that only sees

Within its object qualities that please,

Awaking flawless beauty with a kiss,

Expectant of an ever-after bliss,

Wherein the needs of both are satisfied:

All hers in him, and his, in her, the bride.

Call poor and weak, nay, call not love at all

That glow that fades when trials it befall:

For who would call it love that only cleaves

When appetite is slaked, or else it leaves?

No! Slander not that godly thing that swears

To stand by and be true through all the cares

And sorrows that are bound to come in life --

Some caused indeed by him, some by the wife.

Yes, this is love, and only love, that sees

Its object's flaws, and loves in spite of these.

~~~

So, yeah. I got married :). 

Have some wedding pictures. Photo credit goes to Keely Kohl, my fantastic wedding photographer. Want to see more? Or am I the only one who loves looking at pictures of me and my boy? And speaking of Jon, this poem is for him. I'm so grateful to be loved in spite of my shortcomings.

Seriously, though, holla if you want more pictures. There ARE actually pictures of other things besides me and Jon and the sheet music. That is to say, pics of the bridal party, of the venue, of the dancing. I just didn't think those photos were suited to this post.

It Takes Two to Break a Heart

All of this time you have blamed and resented,

Bitterly smiled cause he never repented,

Trudged through the gray feeling strange and dejected,

Crushed by the knowledge your best was rejected.

Just for a moment he seemed to be yours,

Taking and giving through bars in the doors,

Then came another, and though he still took

Things that you offered, you saw in his look

She had his heart and his mind and his head:

You stayed behind and he ran on ahead.

Shame and devotion and anger and pain

Grip you by turns; you allow them to reign,

Claiming the right of the victim to boast,

Nursing the hatred that's killing its host.

Then through the hide that has grown on your heart,

Truth, cold and clean, pierces you like a dart:

"This is a game that two people must play:

He only took the things I gave away."

~~~

Don't let your mistakes cripple you. Learn from them. ♡

Stop and Smell the Roses ... or in This Case, the Cows

No, these are not my cows.

Jon and I were trying to find a place to park the car at a school where my sisters were performing in their shown choir. And we couldn't find a parking place anywhere. We even drove up and down the streets in the surrounding neighborhoods, and there was not one spot for us to park. It was 6:59 by now, literally one minute before the show was scheduled to begin, and I was beginning to feel frantic. Would we ever find a parking spot within a mile of the place? Would we miss half the show that my sisters had been practicing for 8 months? We ended up going behind the school building and parking behind the football field. We ran across the school grounds and made it into the auditorium five minutes after 7:00. Fortunately, the show started a little late, so we didn't miss any of it.

After the performance, Jon and I walked back through the twilight to his car. The school, by the way, was built right on the edge of the urban growth boundary. So in front of the school was a grid of horrid little town homes, packed together like sardines with no room out front for desperate visitors to park a five-seater car. Behind the school, however, was a lovely little farm. Seven or eight cows and calves were munching on the long grass in their field. Two of the cows were licking their calves clean with their hard, rough tongues. It was such a peaceful sight, and a such a nice surprise to find a little farm behind the school! As Jon drove me home, I said, "You know, if we had found a parking space out front, we wouldn't have found the cows." 

Moral of the story: Sometimes what seems like a bad thing is really a blessing in disguise. Or, to put it another way: When things don't go the way you plan, look for cows.

News

I am the ship that was lost on the sea,

You are the lighthouse that called "Come to me."

I am the sailor that yearned for the land,

You are the shoreline of soft golden sand.

I am the compass that points to the North,

You are the pole that was leading me forth.

I'm the first mate who could not sail alone,

You are the captain who made me your own.

♡ ♡ ♡

Hello all! I have some very exciting news. A week ago today, on the first of May 2016, my boyfriend asked me to marry him, and I said yes! 

(This is the view from the spot where he asked me to marry him. I know, right?)

(We saw whales.)

I'm so very happy, happier than I ever imagined I could be. And half the joy of being engaged is seeing the one you love look so happy, too! Marriage won't be easy (that's what they tell me, anyway), but I'd rather face those troubles with Jon by my side than anyone else in the world. God has brought us together, and I'm confident He will continue to do so if we commit ourselves to following Him. In the meantime, I'm experiencing the fun and stress of planning a wedding! Right now we're trying to pick a date that isn't too far away nor too soon and that it hopefully won't rain on and that all the relatives can make it to! We may have to settle for the lesser of two evils. But at any rate, we'll be married at the end! 

Love to you all. And, at the risk of sounding patronizing, I'll give just a word of advice. That man you dream about -- the one who is good enough to LEAD you -- is 100% worth the wait. Don't settle. Relationships are hard enough when everything is in your favor. You don't want to try one where everything isn't.

To Jon: I love you.

A Conversation in Verse

Hellooooo. So, for about a week or so, my friend Cori and I have been working on a conversation in poems, where she would write a poem and I would write one in reply. The result is four poems that we're both rather pleased with. Hope you enjoy them, though I daresay they'll be a little hard for others to follow ...

Cori

Poisoned hearts, rotten through

Darkness thick as beading dew

None worthwhile

None upright

Depending all on phantom might

Butchered bodies, wearing wrong

Silence sings a numbing song

Never question

Never fight

Die and languish, it is your right. 

Scraped scars, reddened raw

Weary eyes of sights they saw

No relief

No respite

The tortured soul is doomed to night.

Emily

Aye, doomed to night -- but after night comes dawn,
And though the darkness lingers on and on,

A whisper of the sunrise ripples through

The rotting world that we are bound unto.

Some will not hear; it is indeed their right

To stop their ears to truth with all their might,
To shut their eyes and turn with haste away
From any glimmer of the coming day.
And so I say, let's make it ever more
Impossible to let the lost ignore
The song we sing and shout into the night
And pray that they will come into the light.

Cori

I hoped for the morning

But false hope it was

In the night I was mourning

And thought dark was the cause

Of the shadow that choked me

Of the burden I bore

But now I can see

It is not night anymore

The dawn brought the first light

And I lifted my eyes

But the Shadow was not night

I was hoping in lies

And now I am warning

You of this strife

Shadowed the morning

The curse of this life.

Emily

Though shadowed, it is morning still

And rather than despair until

The shadow melts away, I say,

Rejoice in traces of the day.

You caution me of strife, and I

Will heed your words, and yet reply

If you'll not look at aught but strife

You'll miss the glories of this life.

Yes, all creation groans, and yet

I urge you friend, do not forget

That all creation sings as well,

Rejoicing in its tale to tell.

So lift your eyes from grief and pain

And add your voice to the refrain,

The symphony that's singing of

The splendor of our Lord above.

End. 

:) Wasn't that neat? I really like the third poem, where Cori explores and redefines the spiritual connotations of night and dawn. Ahhh, such amazing imagery. It's so fun to have a good poet for a friend. Oh, and by the way, that picture is of a dogwood tree outside Cori's window. Lucky girl.

Enjoy this lovely spring day! Adieu ...

I know at times it feels as if you walk beneath a cloud,

A constant storm of tears that always follows you around. 

And now I know you well enough to know what you would say:

"Don't come near; you'll get wet, too. So please just stay away."

I know you say these words in love, because you fear for me

And you don't want to burden me with all your misery.

But I've got an umbrella that is big enough for two,

And it will keep you dry as well, if I walk close to you. 

I love you. 

If you happen to walk through town in Cannon Beach, Oregon, you'll see a pair of trees that have always fascinated me. They are hung all over with buoys of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. I like to reflect on where these buoys have been. I wonder what storms and waters, what ships and seamen each have known. But now, their traveling days are over. They hang together in these trees, reminiscing, I fancy, on voyages past. I'm sure they're pleased to be among friends. But I wonder whether they don't yearn for the sea, to ride once more the salty waves, exposed to sea and sky, with miles of air above them and leagues of ocean below.

Spring

My dear Spring,

Look at you! You look exactly as you did the first day I met you. Is that the same dress? Looks a lot like it, a floral print all daffodils and blossoms. No, I see that it's just a bit different, as Spring always is! But goodness, you're awfully damp! Still having a few showers, I see? Ah, well, I suppose those flowers wouldn't bloom so bright without them. But do let's have some sunny days, dear! I've had enough of indoors! Either way, though, rain or shine, I'm awfully glad you're back!!!

P.S. 100 points to whoever can identify what type of buds those are! Hint: fruit tree.

The Branch's Song

Because I've failed You once again, I think, "I won't succeed."

But then I look into Your face and see You're all I need.

When did I start believing I can do this on my own?

I'm just a branch, and severed from the vine, I'll die alone.

The things of earth can't satisfy the need I feel for You,

And yet I'm lying to myself, repeating "They will do."

Please tear this callous from my heart and leave me raw and sore,

That when I hear You knocking, I'll come running to the door.

Because I'm Happy

Hi everyone! Beautiful Becca (who is beautiful) tagged me to do this happiness tag. Which makes me, well, happy, because I just resolved last night to endeavor to be more thankful. Grumbling is a big part of our culture here in the US ... which is dumb, because we're so crazy well off. I mean, we don't have to worry (too much) about getting cholera when we drink water, or about where our next meal is coming from! God has given me so much, and I don't thank Him nearly enough for all the ways He has blessed me. So I'm glad to stop for a minute and write out some things that make me happy.

books: The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham. It follows the adventures of Mole, Mr. Badger, Mr. Toad, and the Water Rat, four very-well drawn, distinct, and lovable characters. It's an adoring story about loyalty to friends and being close to nature. Other books: I always enjoy the Anne of Green Gables series, The Chronicles of Narnia, Winnie the Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner (you need to read the Winnie the Pooh books again, regardless of how old you are. They're best when read aloud O.O).

words: Captain, sweethearts, lighthouse, music. Aria. Foliage. Peppermint. Newfoundland. Pleated.

movies and tv: The old animated Disney movies Robin Hood, Peter Pan, 101 Dalmations, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Pocahontas. Yes, I'm a Disney nut (Disneyland was FUN guys, and I was 20 when I went!). Also, Mary Poppins, Sense and Sensibility, The Sound of Music, and Chariots of Fire. -- Oh, and TV? Sherlock and Star Trek TNG.

scents: HA it's funny cause I can't smell. Or at any rate my sense of smell is severely impaired. Still, I like the smell of meat, potatoes, that tree in our backyard when it blooms (one of the few things in nature I CAN smell), summer, dirt, Sophie (my dog), the Whitlock's homestead in general and their cow barn in particular, my Grandma's house, roses, and vanilla ice cream.

songs: "Somewhere Beyond the Sea," this one still and always, "Stay Alive" from the film The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, and "Alaska" from Owl City's Sky Sailing.

miscellany: rain, sunny days, bike rides, watching my sisters do their dance routine to "Rollin' on the River," dresses, high-heels, and chocolate cubes.

Right. I tag Sarabi, Lady Gargoyle who won't do it, Embers because she's awesome and I haven't heard for a while, and anyone else who wants to do this. Cheers!

The Beginning

I crossed off a day on my calendar and thought, "That's one day closer to Christ's return." Imagine that day circled in red on the calendar of God, a fixed day in the future, not receding before us but growing steadily nearer. Each day in this life is a page: with every rotation of the Earth, a page turns, and the wedge of pages left in the book grows slimmer. One day, there will be no pages left in the book, no days left on the calendar. We will reach those two words a certain number of lines down from the top of the final page, The End. The best part is, it won't be the end, but the Beginning.

Excuses

I often turn a blind eye to my sin

And pride myself on being genuine.

I smile and say, "To thine own self be true"

To justify each selfish thing I do.

"Just be yourself," that oft-repeated creed,

Is only an excuse to act with greed.

But rather than myself, I'd have you see

The image of the One who lives in me.

Lord, open up my eyes to all I do

That I may be not true to me, but You.