Made Her A Woman.

"The way he loved her made her a woman." ~ Ann Voskamp

Hurt to Heal.

Do we have to hurt to heal?

I wrote this question down a few weeks ago on scrap paper and kept it lodge in my book, without answers.

The question was posed regarding a friends' situation of brokenness, and his desire to move forward, but wondering how to process still in this place. And I too, wonder... I read Ann Voskamps blog tonight about a broken heart, citing her daughter, then continued to read the responsive stories of women who are breaking, broken.

And I wonder, Lord, where you are. And I wonder, Lord, why do you make us hurt, when you can heal?

Under the Willow.

Ducks lazy in the river. Squirrels scratching the picked earth. Our blankets spread. Our hearts laid out, too, like open canvas. Splattered, knit, checkered, and woven. All a mixture of present and past, looking future.

But there is this unusual commitment that gathers under the willow tree. Its consistent, bold, common, and rare. Its protected treasure. Precious pearl. Glint and glimmer, held diamond in the rough.

Captive in grace.

We sit. Together. Under the Willow.

To Trish & Lindsay; The TriRad.

My Mother's Piano.

My mother's piano. It's what I'm most excited about of anything. The sight of it in that room, with the hardwood floor beneath it and large floor rug serving as a base to cup it with, like a treasure so gifted it must be generous in its hold.

My mother's piano. The sound of it echoing through the walls of my own; the keys, felt beneath my fingers, a mixture of silk and ivory, soft and familiar in a way only it, I, and my mother know.

My mother's piano. Mine to have, mine to hold, mine in my house I own.

More than anything, anything, in buying this house, is deepest, richest, exquisite joy of having once again, of touching once again, of hearing once again, my mother's piano. I am beyond myself in exclamation. Doing little twiddle-fingers and joy-hops and squeals, all because of, my mother's piano.

Conquered Death.

I just wrote this in an e-mail to my friend... and thought it was poignant to share here too... Easter Dawn.

As you walk into Easter morning tomorrow, remember and know deeply, that he has conquered death. Last year, that is what hit me the most, he has CONQUERED it, and death can not keep him, nor can it contain our loved ones, because when he came, he CONQUERED it, overcame it; he took the victory, and because of that, death cannot keep its sting, and we are, we shall be free....

Camilla.

I have a little girl, running around. With cute side-swaying pigtails and bows, silly giggle-laughter and grin, pink fabric dress brushed with dirt because of her playfulness. I have a little girl, dancing in the backyard, squealing "Mama!" and looking justice like her daddy and me...

Either her name will be Lily. For Easter. For Joy. For Flowers. For the way it sounds so girly and feminine, and the way the flowers smell on Easter mourn... It's been a name tucked down inside of me, like a treasure waiting to be told, since high school. Lily. Lily Jubilee.

Or her name will be Camilla. For the way it dainty-rolls off the tongue, like Southern sweet tea mixed with warm July days. Or the way it carries feminine air and thoughts of bobbed spiral curls. Mills. Millie. For short. Because of Mil. Aunt Mil. (Mildred Meidema.) The woman who encompasses it all: everything godly and patient and faithful and obedient. Filled with his peace and joy and contentment and seeing good. Talking to her, being with her, is like spending time in heaven, rejoicing and lingering with angels. Like being touched and reminded of the hands of God. She lives a simple life, now in her 80s and crippling in it. But her voice, her soul, is still so steadfast.

Mills. Millie. The connection of life and love and legacy. Of Mil and my Mom and Me. And how we're all made in one unison. Of Camilla.

Camilla. Lily Jubilee.

Justice and Jubilee.

I've loved these names for years, but always wonder how I'll ever sway my husband towards these names...

Then last Thursday, I woke up with a new realization:

Jack

Jan

Kelly Joy

Christina Jill

Blake Jared

I can continue the "J" names with Justice and Jubilee! So now my daughter/son will spread this heritage, this linage through their names...

Like... (Dream with me a bit... oh come on, a girl can dream...)

Lily Jubilee

Camilla Jubilee

and whatever boys name, plus Justice as a middle name.

Justice and Jubilee have such deep, connected meanings to me.

For the year the Lord's favor. Rejoicing. Providing. Abundance, exclamation of blessing.

And for strength, courage, character, might, conviction, boldness. Social justice.

Justice and Jubilee. "J" names. Middle names.

Now, if I could just find that husband.... ;)