Do I Dare?

If you have been reading my blog in the past month than you may already know about my longing for Boldness. As I make small steps toward boldness I am realizing more and more that this is a risky undertaking. I am in need of substantial encouragement and nudging if I am to make great strides.

The words of others that have gone before me seem to say that there is little in life that isn't worth the risk.

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go." ~T.S. Eliot

"To laugh is to risk appearing a fool,
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental
To reach out to another is to risk involvement,
To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self
To place your ideas and dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss
To love is to risk not being loved in return,
To hope is to risk despair,
To try is to risk to failure.
But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing.
He may avoid suffering and sorrow, But he cannot learn, feel, change, grow or live.
Chained by his servitude he is a slave who has forfeited all freedom.
Only a person who risks is free." ~William Arthur Ward

"And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." ~Anais Nin

The Beauty of This Sight

About 6 years ago I was introduced to one of the most glorious sights I have ever seen, the Skagit Valley carpeted with row upon row for bright and beautiful tulips.

I have made it an annual tradition to make a trip up north every Easter for the past 5 years to celebrate. Last year was particularly beautiful with the contrast of the ominous, gray sky and the brilliant colors on the earth. Only a few more months till the tulips are in bloom again!

It has been a great week of sharing! Thanks so much to all of you out there who joined in the fun. We will all have to do it again sometime. Happy weekend to all!

Do I Have to Pick Just One Sound?

I think picking a favorite sound is the hardest one yet. When ever playing "Would you rather..." and the inevitable question of would you rather lose your hearing or your sight comes up I always answer sight. I think I could learn to function and enjoy life without my eyes. But a life without music, hearing I loves you's, or laughter sounds like more then I could bear.

I guess if I have to pick just one sound I love it would be uncontrollable laughter. You know the kind when you can't help but snort and your eyes start to water.

As I was looking back through old pictures trying to find one that captured such laughter I couldn't pass this one up. This is from a camping trip I took with my old roommates. In an attempt to keep ourselves occupied be began finding new uses for our camping gear. This is jumping rope with Tent poles. As you can see we are all doubled over laughing. I can always count on these friends to make me laugh my hardest!

A Touch I Cannot Wait For

Lately it seems that I have babies on the brain. I have a friend who is due in March, friends who are currently marveling at their new babies, and I found out recently that my sister is pregnant and I will be an Auntie soon. And as I think of a favorite touch I can think of none sweeter than the soft, silkiness of a babies skin. I especially love when they wrap their tiny fingers around one of mine and hold on so tightly. There is so much mystery and beauty in that tiny touch.

I am especially looking forward to meeting my new little Neice or Nephew and holding those tiny little fingers in mine.

A Taste I Savor

Today I was reminded of a taste I love...Homemade Macaroni and Cheese.

I have an amazing recipe that I found in a pasta cookbook I have for Creamy Macaroni and Cheese. Before I tried the recipe I don't think that I had ever had Mac and Cheese made the old fashioned way. When I took the first bite I was in love. At the very thought of it I can actually begin to taste the tangy sour cream and sharp cheddar cheese. It is my favorite comfort food to make when I am sad or on a gray gloomy day.

I think I might have to cook up a batch this week to satisfy my tastebuds.

I Think I'll Start with Favorite Smell

Just a few blocks from my apartment there is a place I know that I am sure to find my favorite smell. I love when I have the chance to walk by and breathe in deep the smell of fresh lumber.

I know it is a somewhat strange smell to love but I can't help it. I have always loved that smell. I think it goes back to my childhood days. My dad has always been quite the carpenter. He has built cabinets for our house, shelving for the garage, sailboats, canoes, and endless other little things. As a child I loved to make my way out to the the garage and "work" along side my dad as he built so many beautiful things. Occasionally I would get to tag along on trips to the lumberyard. I always thought it was a big treat. After all I never say other little girls at the lumberyard, I must be truly special to be there.

So when ever I catch the scent of lumber in the air I pause...breathe in deep...and remember.

This Week is for Favorites

Hello Friends. This week I decided a theme was in order to help give me some inspiration for my blog. I decided that sharing some of my favorite things with you would be fun. But seeing how I am just a Monday-Friday blogger I was feeling a little daunted by picking just 5 favorites. Then with the number 5 in my mind I instantly thought of the 5 senses. So I will pick one each of my favorite taste, touch, sight, smell and sound. Still a challange but one I think I can tackle with confidence.

And I would love it if all my blogging friends joined in the fun and shared some of their favorites this week.

A Stroll in the Snow

On Tuesday morning this was the scene I woke up to outside my window. So I bundled up and grabbed my camera to go for a walk and enjoy the loveliness of my neighborhood. It made me happy to hear the crunching on the snow under my feet. I thought I would share some of the pictures that I took on my stroll. Enjoy!

The Truth About Snowflakes

During the glorious snow fall on Saturday I made an exciting discovery. I will start by explaining that I spent the first 20 years of my life in Huntington Beach, CA. We didn't get any snow there ever! I saw snow plenty of times before I moved to Seattle, but I think I only ever saw it falling once or twice in my California days. Then all the times it has snowed in Seattle it has been a somewhat wet snow that clumps together.

But Saturday as my friend Andrea (also from southern California) and I ventured out into the snow we were so excited by what we say. Andrea exclaimed, "They are little Stars!" And with that we were both examining every flake that landed on our sleeves and mittens. It was amazing! Snowflakes really look like snowflakes! I don't know the last time I was overcome by such awe. I was keenly aware of God in that moment. How could anyone who ever say a snowflake, so perfectly crafted and intricately beautiful, think that it just happened by chance? As I saw those little stars and the great care with which they had been formed I thought of how much more care went into making me.

I don't think that I will ever look at snow the same again!

It is already January 15th?

It is hard for me to believe that it is already January 15th. And I am sad to see that this is the first post of the new year. I have some good reasons. I have yet to know a day of full health in 2007. I have a had a nasty cold that just won't go away. I am getting better but I am not quite there yet. Then with my trip to CA for Christmas and missing work because I was sick I had quite a bit to catch up on when I returned to work. But needless to say I am here and blogging once again.

I have been doing some thinking over the last 15 days about the lovely little tradition of New Year's Resolutions. The part of me that lacks discipline wants to run screaming when I hear the words "New Year's Resolutions," but my romantic nature wins over and the thought of a fresh start and the hope of accomplishing wonderful things in my life calls me to set some goals for myself.

When I sarted looking back on 2006 and examining the goings on of the year I asked myself one question. What was lacking? In the situations in my life that didn't go as I had hoped...What was lacking? Not what was lacking from the situation that was out of my control, mind you, but what was lacking within myself?

A big thing that I was lacking in 2006 was BOLDNESS. I can think of numerous situations in the last year that could have turned out so differently had I just stepped out from behind my fears in boldness. I think I do a good job most of the time of convincing those around me that I am a bold and daring person, but really I am quite a timid girl. So often I have a conviction on my heart and do not speak it, a word of encouragement for another and keep it to myself, a feeling that I can't ignore but take no action because of fear. This is one of the the things about myself that I so long to have transformed. There is a verse in Proverbs (3:27-28) that says, "Do not withhold good from those who deserve it, when it is within your power to act. Do not say to your neighbor, 'Come back tomorrow' - when you now have it with you." These words haunt me. This could very well be my biggest short coming. How often have I not been bold thinking that I will get another chance tomorrow and then tomorrow never comes? Too often to let myself continue on this way.

There are other "Laundry List" type things I would like to accomplish this year that I won't go into here. They are the usual list of things that most of us resolve to do in the new year. But for me I want this year to be marked by moments of boldness. To speak my heart, to pursue my dreams, and to be a person of action. When the year is coming to a close I want to look back on it and see relationships that have grown in depth and strength, foundations laid for dreams fulfilled, and so much more because boldness has taken hold in my life.

So with that, I will be on my way...I have some important matters to attend to.

The Countdown is Coming

It is so hard for me to believe that at this time tomorrow I will be preparing to countdown the seconds before the clock strikes midnight when one year will end and another one begins. I always remembered hearing adults talking about how they felt like the years just keep going by faster and faster when I was a kid. It always sounded like such a strange idea to me, but now I fully understand what they were talking about. It seems like just yesterday I was ringing in 2006 and thinking up "New Year's Resolutions."

I was just looking back on a post I made at the beginning of the year to reflect on my 2006 resolutions and see how I did. And I was pleased. My resolutions weren't your traditional laundry list of specific things to accomplish, but rather a few key ideas I wanted to find ways of embracing. This year I focused on community, creativity and courage.

I can see so many ways in which these 3 things were fulfilled throughout the year. Many new friends entered my life, as did commitments toward being a more active participant in my existing communities (co-leading a bible study for college women at my church and being a regular in the worship ministry also). I spent time working on new songs and being more diligent about playing my guitar daily. I also branched out in my knitting and moved from simply making scarves to knitting hats as well. Could a sweater be on the horizon in 2007? And courage played a part in all these things as I stepped out from the comfortable and familiar to see what joy could be found in the glorious unknown.

I have already begun to contemplate what I would like to work on in 2007. And seeing how well 2006 went I am eager to begin anew and see what adventures lie ahead. Blessings to all as you reflect on the closing of another year and hope for what awaits us in the next!

Treasures From Under The Tree

My friend Kristen had the brilliant idea of posting photographs of her Christmas gifts. Since I am still in California and it will be a little while before I can show folks my new treasures I thought I would follow Kristen's lead.

Here is a festive little sock monkey that Santa brought for me.
A new wool coat from Mom & Dad to replace my very tattered pea coat.

Some new games from Mom & Dad! We already tried out Turbo Yahtzee and it was so much fun. Much laughter will flow from these games for sure.

Some fingerless glove/mittens from Mom & Dad to keep me worm at the bus stop this winter.

My parents also got me some new Keen's. They are so comfy and I think they shall be my new favorite shoes.

This lovely crocheted scarf and hat were given by my sister, Lisa, and her husband, Andrew.

And last but certainly not least this fabulous pair of pajamas from my parents. Somehow my mom manages to find the perfect gift. Sock monkey + pajamas = Happy Bree!

I hope you all are enjoying your new treasures!

If Scrooge Can Do It, So Can I

Transformation is a tricky thing. I long desperately for it, yet somehow when I begin to feel it taking place I cringe and seem to pull away. How can this be so?

Saturday night I witnessed another man wrestle with this same thing. I attended a performance of A Christmas Carol at the Act Theatre. It was a marvelous perfomance and each of the players did an amazing job. And for 90 minutes I watched as Ebenizer Scrooge wrestled with his own transformation.

I found myself identifying with Scrooge in many ways. His life had been filled with heartache, dissapointment and bad choices. Somehow in the midst of all that hurt he decided it would be best not to feel anymore. He hardened his heart and kept out all those around him that longed to show him grace and love. It took 4 ghosts and a trip through time and space to tear down the walls that had entombed his soul. In the end Scrooge sees that to risk heartache, dissapointment, and bad choices is the only way to find true joy and life.

I loved the transformed Scrooge. He was so undignified, so wreckless and carefree. He danced and shouted in the street. The years of holding everything back were replaced with an explosion of joy and generosity.

On the whole I am no "Scrooge", but I have my moments. Lately I have found myself apathetic to the world around me, somehow unable to care or feel much for anything. A condition I fear, if left unchecked, will turn into full blown Scrooge-like behavior. So I must search for transformation. In spite of the terrifying "ghosts" that I might have to face up to I must open my arms to welcome transformation. That's the thing with transformation, it isn't easy or comfortable, but it is the only way to make our broken lives whole again.

It will take a miracle to transform me into what I am truly meant to be but this is the season for miracles, isn't it? This is the time when God sent his Son from heaven to live on earth among us. The most precious gift of a Savior to walk beside us and help us be transformed by His love and grace. A Savior who came to show us how to be made new, made whole.

A Poem to Ponder

As we head into the final weekend before Christmas I thought I would leave you with a poem to ponder. I know so often I find myself swept up in the excitment of the season. There are gifts to buy, festive parties to attend, and travels to be made to visit loved ones. It is easy to lose sight of what Christmas is all about.

I found this in a collection of poems by Madeleine L'Engle (Best known as the author of A Wrinkle in Time). Her poems are beautiful and full of challenge. She has so many poems in particular about what Christmas really means. This one is short and yet holds more power and truth than many works twice its size. I hope that it will stir your heart as it has mine.





After Annunciation
by Madeleine L'Engle

This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason
There'd have been no room for the child.

Dusting off the old keyboard

This past week I received a message from a dear old friend who told me that she missed reading my blog and hoped that I would begin to post again. I am not entirely sure why it has been so long since my last post. I suppose there are many reasons. Work gets busy. Thoughts feel too muffled to even begin the task of writing them out. The calendar fills up with activities and before you know it months pass you by.

As I look back at the past year of blogging I love to read back over old posts and remember the things that have been thinking about this year, the places I have been, the adventure I have had. It's like a journal, only better. Not only my thoughts are captured here but photographs and encouraging words from friends. What a treasure to have such a cronicle of the past year. I feel a desire stirring in my heart to rededicate myself to writing more frequently on this little blog of mine.

But first I think an apology is due.

My dear Blog,
I am so sorry that I have neglected you so these past few months. I have missed you and the space you give me to explore my own thoughts and hopes and fears. You have been so gracious to humor my little ramblings on life. There are no excuses that are good enough to forgive my negligence. Please except this apology for my absence and know that I will do my best to mend my ways.

Yours Truly,

Bree

My Bags Aren't Packed, But I'm Ready To Go

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I will make my way from my little apartment in Seattle and arrive a few hours later in my hometown of Huntington Beach, CA. I have been longing for some travels. A chance to escape from work and responsibility to spend my days with loved ones enjoying a good laugh or a hug that I have been craving.

The majority of my long weekend will be spent with my family. Celebrating my moms birthday, meeting my sister's new kittens, and laughing so hard that my side aches with the best kind of pain. My mom and I are even planning a trip to Disneyland to satisfy the little girl that still lives in each of us. My dad, unfortunately, will be working during most of my visit, but I will see him enough to get lots of hugs (he gives great hugs).

And there will be time for old friends too. Time to catch up, an activity that the distance between Seattle and Huntington Beach robs us of. Time to celebrate to milestones that have come up in the months since we were last together. Old memories will be visited and laughter will most definitely flow.

I feel thankful on the eve of my journey home. Thankful for a life that is so rich in love. Thankful for a family that means more to me than words can say. Thankful for the faithfullness of friends who have walked with me so many years. Ah, I am blessed indeed!

Wrestling with Worship

A few dats ago I have a good conversation with a dear friend that started stirring many thoughts and questions in my heart about "Worship". I have been involved on various levels with the worship ministries at the two churches I have been a part of over the past 14 years and yet I still wrestle with questions like...What is worship? How should I worship? What does authentic worship look like personally? What does it look like in the church?

As the questions started to swirl in my brain, rather than stew in my overwhelmed state, I pulled a book off of my shelf that I had read a couple of years ago as I wrestled with the same kinds of questions. The book is called Unceasing Worship by Harold Best. I skimmed through the chapters and read passages that I had underlined during my frist read. I was encouraged, not beacause I found all the answers neatly summerized, but because I found truths that gently nudged me to think deeper on the root of the problems I encounter when I wrestle with worship.

This is How Mr. Best begins his book...

Worship is at once about who we are, about who or what our god is and about how we choose to live. It is about something that is quite simple but wrapped in a mystery. It is about God himself, who has but one face and whose face has been clearly shown in the person and work of his only begotten Son. It is about a world in which worship takes on a thousand faces. It is also about Satan, dressed as an angel of light, disarmingly attractive yet inherently false, whose faces are cleverly multiplied and whose one desire is to undo what has already been done from the eternities.

The thousand faces of worship contain both deadened and lively countenances. They are the lost and the found, all of whom are continuous worshippers, for as the title of this chapter states, nobody does not worship. We begin with one fundemental fact about worship: at this very moment, and for as long as this world endures, everybody inhabiting it is bowing down and serving something or someone - an artifact, a person, an institution, an idea, a spirit, or God through Christ. Everyone is being shaped thereby and is growing up toward some measure of fullness, whether of righteousness or of evil. No one is exempt and no one can wish to be. We are, every one of us, unceasing worshipers and will remain so forever, for eternity is an infinite extrapolation of one of two conditions: a surrender to the sinfulness of sin
unto infinite loss or the commitment of personal righteousness unto infinite gain. This is the central fact of our existence, and it drives every other fact. Within it lies the story of creation, fall, redemption and new creation or final loss.

In reading this passage I see that my questions of when and where worship should happen are not the right questions to be asking, at least not at first. Because worship is taking place in every heart in every corner of all the world. Worship is not an exlusively Christian word. It seems that the really question is Who or What am I worshiping in this moment? And this is a question that we must ask ourselves in every moment.

Later this week I will be entering into a conversation with a small handful of people from my church to discuss the worship ministry at our church. It is my understanding that this time will be for sharing ideas and casting a new vision for moving in a new direction in our times of corperate worship. And as I think of the words above I feel a little conflicted in stepping into the conversation. This meeting seems a call to ask the how and when questions but I don't think we have yet truly visited the Who and Why questions.

I know that deep in my core I was made to be an unceasing worshipper and one who is whole heartedly wrapped up in Christ. But I also know that my vision often times gets cast to far and I overlook the need to answer the questions of who do I worship and why. I want to ask those questions fervently over the next few days and weeks. I want to center my heart back on the one for whom it was created.

Welcome, Dear Weekend! Welcome!

It is Friday afternoon and there is an anticipation building up for all the fun that lies ahead. This summer it feels like the weekends have been so full of the most glorious of fun. Sometimes planned and sometime spontanious. We must drink up these summer weekends while we can for fall will soon be upon us.

I have been wanting to post some pictures for my adventure last weekend to tiny Hat Island but just recently had the time to upload my photos. A small group of us made the journey from the Everett marine on the MV Holiday to join a most gracious and generous couple from our church at their island getaway. We walked the shrinking beach as the tide came in and enjoyed the scenery. We enjoyed conversation as we basked in the sun overlooking the Sound. We watched the Mukilteo/Clinton ferries pass each other like clockwork and would marvel at the sight when the two ferries momentarily became one ferry.

Heidi & Mel walking the beach

Tim, Audrey, Dan & Don explore on ahead

Me & Heidi (I decided to wear my hat in honor of our trip to Hat Island)

Mel & I carved our names in the sandy cliffs along the beach so others might know we were there.

A new friend I made on our walk back to the house.

The tide came in before we could make it back to the house so we had to do a little walking on water (the sandbar helped immensely).

And there was much to see on the boat ride to and from the island.

Now, cheers to another weekend filled with fun and adventures.

Remember How To Walk On Water?

Last night I finished off the last chapters of Madeleine L'Engle's Walking on Water, a beautiful collection of her thoughts on art and faith, and what it means to be a Christian Artist. This was the second time I have read this book. The first time was several years ago before I would have ever thought to call myself an artist. But reading these reflections again, this time as someone who is growing more and more to claim the title "artist" as her own, I was so challenged and encouraged to reclaim all the beautiful qualities that God so longs for me to live out. To be fully vulnerable, to believe in the impossible, to have faith beyond what I know, to trust unflinchingly that God is guiding and holding my life safely in His hands.

While there are words too numerous to count that I wish to quote here, I will settle for just one passage.

When Jesus called Peter to come to him across the water, Peter, for one brief, glorious moment, remembered how and strode with ease across the lake. This is how we are meant to be, and then we forget, and we sink.But if we cry out for help (as Peter did) we will be pulled out of the water; we won't drown. And if we listen, we will hear; and if we look, we will see.

The impossible still happens to us, often during the work, sometimes when we are so tired that inadvertently we let down all the barriers we have built up. We lose our adult skepticism and become once again children who can walk down their grandmother’s stairs without touching.

It is my hope that one day I will remember how to walk on water.

Happy Memories

It is a friday and things around the office are a little slow. I have iTunes playing to keep me company while I work (or try to work). Sufjan Stevens is playing now. And as the song Casimir Pulaski Day plays I find my mind drifting back to a happy memory. It's ironic really since the song itself is actually quite sad.

It was about a year ago. The birthday party was over and only a few of us remained to help clean up and enjoy each others company a little longer. Sufjan was singing to us on that summer night too. Something about the kitchen in that old house, so spacious and dimly light, and the music called to us to dance. We coupled off and taught each other dance moves we had learned along the way. We laughed and twirled. We played the song over and over again to perfect our moves.

It was such a simple act but there I was surrounded by friends I love so dearly and dancing without a care. It is a memory that I will cherish always. And anytime I hear Sufjan singing Casimir Pulaski Day I will dance a little, even if only in my heart.