Cousins!

There was, of course,

 another bit of cuteness present for the day.

Daniela knew from the beginning 

 that this cool dude was to be adored,

 and by the end of the afternoon, 

 the feelings were mutual.

With delight that contagious,

 the rest of us had to get in on it too.

It's not often that we get to be all together,

but whether we were cousins, siblings, aunts and uncles,

a parent or a grandparent,

we all were pretty glad.

Let's have a Princess Party

And then, because I always leave town the morning after I throw a cottage party, there was a princess party I had to get to,

 to celebrate a special little girl.

 Gathering with all of her fairy tale friends,

 Princess Daniela flitted her way

 from treat to treat,

 all while attending elegantly to

her adoring public.

 This sweet four year old

 delighted us with her dance moves

 despite the weight of her crown,

 and gave her family an opportunity

to eat some good food

and spend some quality time.

Perhaps the most surprising moment of the day

 was when I discovered the still-in-existence of this childhood memory,

 which--upon thorough investigation--

 appears to have belonged to Keith.

At the end of the day,

if this girl questions whether or not she is loved,

 she doesn't have to look 

 any farther than this.

But my guess is that the question will never cross her mind.

Let's have a Cottage Party

Sitting out in my delicious yard 

as Spring was springing on its way, 

I thought:

1) Don't you think this pond needs some lights?

and

2) Our one year anniversary is coming up...!!

There needs to be a party, in which to celebrate my love.

So this week I bribed Kyra with dinner,

and we tackled string upon string,

 and obstacle after obstacle

[with a high amount of hilarity]

until,

Voila!

Beauty,

and quite a bit

 of extreme delight.

My yard was party ready,

just in time for the arrival of my celebratory friends.

My dearest ones

 gathered for appetizers

 and [what I have determined is] the "house drink" of this sweet place,

 helpfully prepared by this drink master.

The night was rainy,

 so we scattered about,

with plenty to do and talk about

 until dinner was ready.

When the fajita bar was ready to go,

so--hooray!--was the rain,

 so we wandered outside 

 and were glad for some tree cover when it decided to return.

Eventually the rain won, 

but inside was just fine with us.

 We entertained ourselves,

 and spent the rest of the night laughing together in my living room.

And when all was said and done, I thought:

No better way to celebrate than spending time

in all the charming spaces this cottage has to give.

Best Cottage Party of the Year!

Until the next one, that is.

I Submit: An Invitation

Yesterday I spent the day in the prayer cabin,
one of my routine favorite things.
And God was kind and loving, my easy friend,
and spoke and taught and spent His time, with me.

You, of course, were a part of the talking.
And so, at one point, was this:

~from Restless: Because You Were Made for More, by Jennie Allen~ 

When I met Christ, he set me on a track and I began running a race with fervor, surrounded by people cheering. I felt motivated, purposeful, full of joy. My eyes weren't distracted. Jesus was in full focus, and the point of this race felt clear. But as I ran, I noticed more and more people tangled up in the weeds, to my left and right. Some of them had stopped running, distracted by something, and some of them had stopped because they were in pain.

I kept running, but I began to feel lonely. So I began to ask myself questions that were once clear to me: Why am I running again?

Then I tripped. I was hurt.

Now I was the one on the side of the road. I was tired and in pain. It felt good to stop running. I pulled myself close to some other hurt runners. We told stories and jokes, and eventually we were comfortable together. As if there wasn't even a race--as if we weren't even hurt.

Every once and a while a runner called to me, "Come on Jennie! Come back and run with us!" But no one ever stopped to really help me. They just ran by. As time passed, I picked up some entertaining hobbies on the side of the road. The hobbies temporarily motivated me and made me feel a little fulfilled again. My injured ankle never really healed, but I quit thinking about it--it didn't hurt quite as badly as it used to. And before long, we discovered great entertainment in critiquing the remaining runners--their shorts, hair, pace, attitude.

Until one day a small pack of runners turned off the road and headed toward me. I was wishing they would go away. But they didn't. I remembered passing them back when I was running; they had been on the side of the road with injuries and all tangled up. They ran right up to me and they sat down.

One of them handed me water and another one had medical supplies. 

They asked me a question:

"Do you need help?"

For some reason I said yes, and before I finished uttering the word they were wrapping my ankle, giving me food and water, and started talking to me about the race again--about how much I had missed, how much they needed me. "We want you to run the rest of the way with us. It is really getting exciting, and we don't have much further."

Something dead inside of me woke up. A fire relit itself in my chest. My ankle still hurt, but I didn't care. I just wanted to recklessly run with all my heart again, because they reminded me of the reason that we run.

I am running to bring glory to my Father God, who gave me a purpose and a hope when I was unworthy, on the side of the road, broken. Now our little misfit team stops for every runner we see on the side of the road. We stop and offer them the same healing and hope that was offered to us. I sense God's pleasure as we run and as we stop for those who have fallen off to the side.

I read it at just the right time. In it, I recognized my own story, give or take a few particulars. And in it, particulars aside, is also yours. It's the story of any child of God actually, chosen to be His friend, and to do His work.

~~

Do you remember the day I told you I'd see you at church, but that I probably wouldn't be able to acknowledge that I even knew you, because I was a damaged mess? Do you remember how you handled that?

I stood talking, and you approached
intent and directly, from clear across the room.
You stopped in front of me, you looked straight at me,
and you held out your hand.
You nodded to those around me, but you were waiting,
for me.

I put my hand in yours, absolutely blessed.

You met me when I was in great need,
and you were kind and thoughtful.
You knew then, the point of the race.
But then you tripped,
and you were tired, and in pain.
You lost your focus, you lost your purpose,
because He needed
to refine it.

I was going to run right by,
was going to keep along my way,
but that God of ours,
He wouldn't let me.

He took me to the side of the road,
to sit it out, with-you-but-not-with-you,
to wait for the day
when you would be ready to run,
again.

Today I'm standing up,
and I'm offering you my hand.
I'm looking only straight at you;
I'm asking you to run again,
for Him.

It's not an invitation really,
for you to run with me.
It's more an act of my submission;
If you choose me, I will go.
With you.

Absolutely blessed.