be still.

I did something drastic this past Sunday. 

"Permanent and forever!" kind of drastic.

I got a tattoo.

My parents resolved themselves to the fact that at 35 years of age there wasn't much they could say in order to prevent it from happening. It may have helped a tiny bit too the fact that my tattoo is written in my daddy's handwriting. 

Let me not jump too far ahead, but... just sayin.'

Now, here's the story.

I have wanted a tattoo since I was a teenager. Growing up I was convinced I knew what it would be (boy, was I wrong), but was never fully convinced it needed to be done. 

Until this last year of my life.

Have you heard of a "life verse?" You know, a specific scripture verse that speaks directly to your heart time and time again until it becomes a part of your very fabric? 

Well, I have one. 

Now I have one. 

I didn't have one until this past year.

Psalm 46:10a-

"Be still and know that I am God."

Confession time.

I am not in any way good at the first part of this verse. 

Websters dictionary defines STILL as:

 "remaining in place or at rest; motionless; stationary:"

 

The whole "Be still" thing... yeah. Not so much. 

I like to go. 

I like noise. I like music. I like laughter. I like voices. 

I like activity. I like action. I like moving.

I like to play and sing and dance.
I have two full time jobs and many others on the side.

See the conflict yet?

Websters also defines STILL as:

 "free from turbulence or commotion; peaceful; tranquil; calm:"

Sounds like a wonderful state of mind, right?? 

You know the old saying, "An idle mind is the devil's playground."?

Yep. That's me. 

My mind goes still? My mind goes.
Very easily. And very quickly. This, for me, can be a dangerous thing.

See the conflict here yet??

Confession time (take 2).

I am also not in any way good at the second part of this verse.

"know that I am God."

Let me clarify.

I KNOW that He is God. He is my Savior. He died for me. He saved me. I KNOW this.

I believe, however, (a personal belief) that the word 'know' in this verse truly means TRUST.

"Be still and TRUST that I am God."

That's harder for me.
He is God. He knows what's best. He works on His time schedule. In His ways.
For His reasons. For His purposes.

When things in life don't go as I feel they should does that trust waiver?

Sure. 

Should it? 

No.

Does it anyway? 

Yes. Most of the time. Yes.

Which brings me to this past year.

I've been through a lot of ups and downs in the last few years of my life. 

This past year, however, this verse has been a constant. Everywhere I go, there it is. 

I see it.

I hear it.

It's whispered to me.

It's spoken to me.

It's painted on a wall.

It's posted on a blog.

It's dangling from keychains.

It's plastered on bumper stickers.

And then came David Arms.

He is a breathtaking painter. 

He paints birds. And eggs. And teacups. And scripture verses. And many other things.

He is amazing.

(Check him out www.davidarms.com)

My parents got one of his paintings several years ago from my aunt and uncle. It's a hummingbird sitting on a perch made of a stick hung up by two strings.
Above the little bird are the words

BE STILL

AND KNOW

It hangs in the family room. I love it.

David says on his website that he paints hummingbirds a lot because "The hummingbird... is perpetual motion. I remember when I first saw a hummingbird still. It was startling. As it can be for us – it can be startling for us to be still. Yet we must."

Wow.

Last year my family had the privilege of visiting David's Gallery Barn in Leiper's Fork, TN. 

I met David. He is such a wonderful and godly man.
And he wears bow ties. :)

I saw the painting again. Even though I've seen it a hundred times on my parent's wall it meant something different to me this time. 

It meant it was time for ME to learn how to be still. 

Time to know that He is God. 

Time to truly know it.  

To trust it.

And believe it.

And live it.

I decided to get that tattoo. 

I now knew that it would be NOTHING like my young adolescent mind had pictured. 

Now I knew it would be words.

be still.

Now, I had to find a font.

My best friend and I searched on a free font website for about three hours one night. We narrowed down a thousand or so fonts to one. Care to guess the name of the font? 

Mighty to Save.

Ummm... ok. Got it.

It doesn't end there.

I texted a dear friend of mine and told her that I was going to do it. She, in her brilliance, said to me, "Cath! You should get your dad to write it! He has AWESOME handwriting." 

This is a true statement. He has awesome handwriting.

He's also my daddy. In the truest form of the word. 

My heavenly daddy gave me a true example of how He loves me in the form of my earthly daddy.

I'm a blessed little girl.

Anyway... I texted my mom and asked her to get dad to write the words be still on a piece of paper and send me a picture of it. 

I followed my request with "all lower case and with a period at the end."

Mom's response was, "Are you planning a Christmas present?" Ha!! She'd later wish so. ;)

Dad scribbled it out quickly, not knowing why, and I got the photo. 

I practically burst into tears. The font my best friend and I had chosen, and the print my father had written were so close to one another I couldn't believe it. A different boldness and daddy's maybe not as crisp, but it was there. 

My font. My daddy's font.

(Perhaps a huge factor in why I was drawn to it begin with and just wasn't aware?)

Mighty to Save

 Daddy

Done.

Then came the Skype conversation where I told mom and dad the whole story. 

It went so much better than planned. They were actually supportive. 

A bit wary, but supportive. 

My dad said he was honored when I told him I wanted him to write it.

When I told them what it would say my mother made a small gasp and elbowed my dad in the ribs. I assumed it was because she had texted me the photo and it was finally all snapping into focus now. 

I was wrong. 

A few days later came my birthday present in the mail. 

Mom and dad had bought me a print of David's BE STILL painting. 

He signed it. 

They had it framed for me. 

It is so beautiful and hangs in my living room. 

When I went home at the beginning of the summer dad wrote it out again.
Very carefully and very perfectly. No pressure, right? :)

I went back down again to Florida this last week
and four dear girlfriends went with me to get it done.

So...

Now...

Ready to see the tattoo??

Here we go!!!

 during- FYI: Lars was wonderful.

a brief glimpse into the event. press PLAY for 15 seconds of awesome.

So now, everyday, my earthly daddy and my heavenly one both provide me with reminders to 

BE STILL

AND KNOW

I'll admit it...

It's still not easy, but I am so much better at it than I was before.

My life verse plays on repeat in my head daily now. 

It's like my theme song. 

Some days it even has its own little melody and harmonies to go right along with it. 

Some days it screams itself at me in order to force me into submission to it.

Other days it speaks gently. 

And softly.

 And I respond.

35 years young.

                           Today, I turned 35 years young!

While the significance of birthdays does grow a bit stale the older we get, this particular one is anything BUT stale for me. “Why?” you may ask.

Well, it's simple really... I woke up this morning and honestly felt a bit like I was glowing.

The juxtaposition from last years birthday morning is literally night and day. I'll spare any major details, but last years birthday was awful. I was in a living situation that made me extremely unhappy, I was not emotionally, spiritually, or physically healthy and was truly struggling with myself on pretty much every level that one can feel struggle. 

Let's just say... I cried all day the day I turned 34.

Today, however, I woke up smiling. Truly. I woke up with a smile on my face. I rolled over and turned off my alarm song, Robbin Thompson serenading me awake with “It's Gonna Be a Good Day!” and I grabbed my phone. I was immediately serenaded again, this time by three squeaky voices on my voicemail singing “Happy birthday Aunt Caffree! Cha-cha-cha!” My heart. Right there. Not too long after I got a perfect message from my bestie and an “I want to sing you the ABC's for your birthday!” message from my non-blood nephew. My heart. Again. Then a mommy and daddy serenade. Then a Paw-Paw serenade. A birthday isn't a birthday in our family until Paw-Paw sings.                Off to a pretty great start, huh?

It has only gotten better and better from there. And I don't just mean because of the circumstances of my day; the gorgeous weather, the amazing church service, the perfect gift from a precious new forever friend, the perfect time outside with friends enjoying a delicious meal on the patio of a beautiful restaurant, the multiple times I was stopped and told how adorable my dress is, the wonderful phone call from my brother (who happens to be across an ocean), the fact that I am leaving my house soon to go enjoy fireworks with my girlfriends, etc... (Yes. Fireworks. On my birthday. They are, of course, in honor and celebration of Memorial Day and our lost soldiers and servicemen and women, but I secretly like to think they are for me too in celebration of this grand occasion in my own life. I'm allowed to think that, right??)

I don't just mean all that. 

I mean me. 

Pure and simple- I have gotten better. 

I was once so “sick”- inside and out, but SO MUCH has changed for me over the course of the last year of my life. I have gotten better. I have rediscovered, uncovered, buried, dusted off, settled, accepted, cherished, remembered, recognized, and appreciated. 

I have changed. I have grown. I am content now.

I'll never understand why our God is so patient, and gentle, and loving with His kids. 

I sure am glad He is though. It feels good to feel good again.

It feels good to wake up smiling.

Here's to 35!!

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalm 34:18

I am

I have been sporadically doing a monthly photography challenge on and off for a few years now. During the month of the challenge I take one photo a day with my cell phone camera; there is a different list of daily themes every month. I keep photo albums of them all on my computer and post them to Facebook too. I love seeing the world through a lens and stretching a theme to it's fullest to get a great shot always creates a memory for me. 

I have played around with photography for years now, it's something I truly enjoy and I have a great camera to play with, but that's not what this blog is about.

Today's theme was-

I wrote this...

Here is my photo.

When I was a junior in high school I wrote this book as an assignment. 

(These 'Preface' and 'Afterword' pages should give you some insight into my thoughts on the project.)

So...

This blog today is not written with my adult 34 year old words, brain, and heart, but with the words, the brain, and the heart of my once 17 year old self.

Ladies and Gentlemen...

I give you the chapter entitled

"I Am."

All that we love deeply, becomes a part of us. 

I am a Child of God.

I am the daughter of Roy and Linda Dudley.

I am the sister to Cameron and Stephen Dudley.

I am the granddaughter to Mildred and Joseph Wallace.

I am the mother to "Broom."

I am a friend to Kacy Suzanne Kattau.

I am a student of Mrs. Young.

I am a part of all of these people because I love them all deeply, and they have touched my life in some way.

I am a little kid trapped inside a bigger kid's body.

I am sunshine to my daddy.

I am a voice to sing all to sleep.

I am an artist with a blue crayon and a blank page.

I am an actress with a passion.

I am a little child running in a field of daisies.

I am a caterpillar making its way out of his cocoon.

I am the butterfly.

I am a letter in the mailbox to a friend.

I am the princess in the top of the tower.

I am the one who is scared of growing old.

I am barefeet on a wet trampoline.

I am a small scrap on a giant quilt.

I am the one who is thinking about you when the lock on your necklace is backwards.

I am a teardrop.

I am the smile on a child.

I am the clown at the circus.

I am the little girl whom you rock to sleep at night.

I am a red line on the horizon at sunset.

I am a loved one.

I am the face I see in the mirror.

I am a daddy's girl.

I am an angel in disguise.

I am the water that runs between your toes.

I am the little child frightened of the monster in the closet.

I am the one who closes the door on the darkness.

I am a star.

I am the cat curled up on your lap.

I am the one who holds your hand.

I am the one who will be proud to grow up like mom.

I am a shiny, wet dew on a brand new ground.

I am an offering.

I am a blue-eyed beauty.

I am a nervous twitch.

I am a heart of solid gold.

I am the one who gives the gifts.

I am the one who receives.

I am the one who rings the wind chimes.

I am the extra hour of sleep.

I am a good chew toy.

I am the one who smells of a fresh, spring morning.

I am a soft, warm pillow.

I am a person.

I am a feeling.

I am the queazy in your stomach.

I am the warmth in your heart.

I am the brilliance in your head.

I am the creative in your hand.

I am the smile on your face.

I am all of these things because, "I am."

(So... My spelling may not have been the best, but I guess somewhere deep down inside I have always been a bit of a writer.)

God replied to Moses, "I Am Who I Am. Say this to the people of Israel:  I Am has sent me to you." -Exodus 3:14

Medication in Motion

It's been a while since I have written anything. When I began this blog I promised myself that I wouldn't write unless I felt inspiration of some kind. 

I don't want to force anything. 

Forcing things never tends to work out for the best.

So... “You're writing something now. What is your inspiration today?” you ask.

Well, it's simple, somewhat silly, and possibly even a little strange to some of you, but it's something I've been thinking quite a bit about this last week...

I'm going to learn Tai Chi.

Yes. Yes, I am.

I work in the school system. For reasons that make sense to the “powers that be” but not to those of us on the ground and in the classrooms, the county I work in has chosen Chinese as it's foreign language. For the past two years they have been trying to teach our kids Mandarin Chinese. The kids are not crazy fond of it because it is extremely difficult and our Chinese teachers accents are SO thick that no one can understand them. They are precious and wonderful and the kids enjoy them, and saying “Nee How” (hello) to each other in the halls, but really, I think they have learned to count to ten, sing a few songs, and write a few characters. It's an interesting thing. Really, it is.

BUT... there has been some cool stuff that's come from it. The school that I work in is the largest Special Ed based elementary school in our county. We have typically developing kids alongside every kind of special need you can think of; deaf and hard of hearing, Autism, Aspergers, Down's Syndrome, Developmentally Delayed, Handicapped, Learning Disabilities, Severe Disabilities, an Intensive Day Program, and more. The kids at our school know how to welcome everyone, befriend many, and have no fear of people who are different from themselves. So, when Chinese culture became a part of our school it was just one more thing that encouraged inclusion and acceptance and knowledge of people, language, culture, and traditions that are different from our own.

I have learned a bit this last week. 

Did you know that February 10^th was the start of the Chinese New Year?

If you were wondering, we are now in the year of the Snake.

Well, this past week we had a Chinese New Year celebration. It was actually pretty spectacular. The kids loved it. The staff loved it. (Which is not always the case with assemblies!) Our two Chinese teachers had worked hard to make it wonderful and it showed. They brought in a local Chinese dance team that did three different traditional Chinese dances...

 the third graders played Chinese instruments...

 while three dragons (made up of six third graders) did a traditional line dance,

and then came this...

Could you eat them up??? 

I could. Most of those little girls I know very well. I interpreted last year and the year before for a student who was in class with many of them. I was so proud. Beaming, actually. They were perfect.

And then it struck me.

“That looked so calming. And peaceful. And challenging. All rolled into one.”

I've done yoga before. Honestly, I dig a few of the poses, but most of it's not for me. This though... this looks like it's something I could get into. I think it will be.

I looked up the medical benefits of Tai Chi and health.harvard.edu has much to say on it, but this is how their explanation begins.

“This gentle form of exercise can prevent or ease many ills of aging and could be the perfect activity for the rest of your life. Tai chi is often described as "meditation in motion," but it might well be called "medication in motion." There is growing evidence that this mind-body practice, which originated in China as a martial art, has value in treating or preventing many health problems. And you can get started even if you aren't in top shape or the best of health.”

Sold.

I'm gonna try this. The astrological symbolism, spiritual leanings, and Chinese meditations are not for me, but I dig the idea of finding “the perfect activity for the rest of my life!” And let's face it, I'm not yet old, but I'm not getting any younger, the gray is coming in, I have my share of health issues, and I can get started even if I'm not in top shape. (Whew!) 

Heehee :)

I'll let you know how it goes!

Dance Parties, Chopsticks, and Photographs

Yesterday I woke up and did this...

Yes. That is a FULL BLOWN dance party.
Rad.

Today, I ate lunch with 20 other people. We took up six tables.

We went for Chinese food. What we got was laughter. 

And I mean, the kind of laughter that makes your sides hurt and all the other people in the restaurant either very annoyed by you or very envious of your crazy rad group of friends.

I was sitting kind of near the end of the table and so glancing down the length of it at the sea of glasses, chopsticks, fried rice, Mongolian Beef, smiling faces, and brilliant conversations was completely charming.

The laughter ranged from chuckles to guffaws and the conversation spread all the way from “bald by choice?” to “EMT's vs. Paramedics” and from “tofu has no identity!!” to “mugshot driver's license photos.” There may have even been a moment where the gong on the wall got gonged. Just sayin'.

There was never a lull in conversation and every moment felt sweet.

I then came home and Skyped with one of my oldest and dearest friends from childhood. She is coming to stay for a full week with me in February. We made plans, we laughed, we talked life stuff, we got excited about her trip. 

Her precious friendship over the years has meant so much to me.

After that I began to prepare for the class that I teach sign language in. 

I teach kids. 

Amazing kids.

Awesome kids. 

That make me smile and fill my life with joy everyday just by knowing them.  

See???

Now...

I'm sitting here in my living room writing this blog on my laptop.

My very own living room.

My very own laptop.

My walls are covered in photographs of my precious family and my dear friends, my blinds are open and I can still see the little bit of fluffy, white snow that has yet to melt, my iPod is shuffling through my favorite songs, and I am blown away by how great this weekend has been. It's one of those weekends where you realize how full your life really is and how grand it is just to be alive and able to experience the things we are privileged enough to experience.

And it IS a privilege. LIFE is a privilege.

I am beginning to truly cherish the idea of that.

I am beginning to truly rest in the promise of that.

I am beginning to fully understand the gift of that.

LIFE.

MY LIFE.

It really is pretty special.

Is it what I planned for myself? No.

Is it always easy? Heck no.

But, is it great anyway? Absolutely.

"You will make known to me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy; in Your right hand there are pleasures forever." - Psalm 16:11

It's good.

Today I looked up the word “content.”

Content (kənˈtɛnt) -adj
1. Mentally or emotionally satisfied with things as they are
2. Assenting to or willing to accept circumstances, a proposed course of action, etc.

Based on this definition I haven't been content for a long time. My life's circumstances and course of action have not been dictated by me, (hahaha!!) and in the ways I desire, therefore I've been restless.

Slowly, however, over the last month I have begun to transition into a new form of contentment. I am changing things up. Breaking some routines. Finding new niches. Doing. Living. Enjoying. Resting. Trusting.

It's good.

I am on the return trip home.

I was made for this.

I am an American Sign Language interpreter. I love my job.

I happen to think I have the greatest job in the world! Paying job, that is; they don't pay you to be a mommy. I am not a mommy, but I do believe it is the greatest, and hardest, job in the world. I digress.

Sign language and deafness in any form was never a part of my life growing up. How they entered my life is an amazing story. One I would like to tell. Here goes...

I was an actress. Born that way. My family lovingly coined me “Crisis a minute” because everything was overly dramatized and intense all the time. I'm woman enough to admit it now, oh yes, it was.

I acted all through elementary, middle, and high school. I went to an arts school for college and studied theatre day and night. I loved it. I was good at it. I had a true passion for it. I never thought I would be anything but an actress for the rest of my life. My mom says that when she and my father dropped me off at college and drove home, that my dad cried because he KNEW that was it- I was never coming home. I was going to NYC and BROADWAY!!! Yep, I had it all figured out.

Funny how OUR plans never look like what really plays out. Hmm.

Anyway... At some point in my young life, probably around 13, my family got a Nintendo. You remember, I know you do. The gray and black box with the red writing. The flat cartridges that you had to blow in to make work, then BAM- Mario got to run and jump and slide down green tubes that took him to fantastical worlds full of coins and Koopas!! Well, we got one of those... and it was AWE.SOME. I was one of those kids that could figure things out quickly and beat a game in a very short period of time. My dad says it was then that he realized how good my hand/eye coordination was. Well, shortly after he began to say, “You know what, Cath? I think you're going to do sign language one day! I don't know why, but I think you will. Your hand/eye coordination is great, plus you have a natural flair for the dramatic!” Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge. To which I would promptly roll my pre-teen eyes and say, “Yeah right, dad! I'm an actress!” End. Of. Story.

Little did we know at the time that my dad had been given a glimpse into my future and my true passion. I am convinced the Lord just whispered it in his ear and he listened, because once every several months or so he would say it again. And again, I would roll my eyes, “Dads. What do they know?” -Adult Catherine to young Catherine, heed my word, “They know. OH. SO. MUCH!”

Cut to age 25. I toured for three years with a professional Children's Theatre company based in Richmond, Va. For the first year or so I loved the lifestyle; traveling all over the country, seeing tons of different states and many cool things, performing for packed houses of screaming and laughing kids. It was great. Then reality set in. It. Was. Hard. You're either made for that lifestyle long term or you're not. I was not; eating, sleeping, driving, breathing- with the same four people for six months at a time (good luck if you hate each other!) You are your own cast, crew, sound, props, administration, etc... It took it's toll on me. After three years I quit.

I needed a job.

A friend of mine told me that they were hiring a Pre-K teacher at a private preschool and I didn't need a teaching certificate or anything. I went. I applied. I got hired. I had 24 four year olds in my class. Holy heck, Batman! It was nuts.

Cut to six months later. I loved the kids. I hated the job.

I called my parents one night sobbing. “I am 25 years old and everything I have ever wanted to do in my life I no longer want to do! I have no idea what is happening or where to go with my life!”  

This is where my story turns. 

My dad says to me (somewhat choked up and teary), “Catherine. I have NO IDEA how I have known this, but I have KNOWN since you were a little girl that you are supposed to do sign language. Please just take a class and if you hate it I promise you I will never mention it again.”

I really didn't have any other options. Why not try it? But, I sure as heck wasn't enrolling in a college course and shelling out $350 or more, because I was convinced it was a lost cause. So, I enrolled in a $60/one night a week for six weeks class sponsored by my local Parks and Recreation.

I KNEW five minutes in. Done. Forever. Daddy's know best for their little girls.

The rest, as they say, is history.

It's strange though, I look back on my family growing up and there is one sign that has ALWAYS been a part of our lives- I Love You.

I don't know where it came from or who started it in my family, but it has always been there. Funny anecdote: When my sister and brother-in-law were first dating, they were leaving the house one day and my mom signed “I love you” to my sister as they drove off. My brother-in-law turned to my sister and said, “Did your mom just flash you the Van Halen symbol??” This is now a running joke in my family. “Van Halen, Dude!” while holding up your hand. Heehee. (Sorry, Dan. Please be nice to me.)

Cut to now. I interpret full time in the school system, free lance interpret on the side, interpret for theatre and concerts, and teach sign language in a program for children with and without disabilities. This is my heart. I LOVE my job. It's easy to FEEL like I am doing what I was meant to do.

BUT... when I get a picture text from my three year old nephew, out of nowhere on a Sunday morning, like this...

I KNOW I am doing exactly what I was called to do. I was made for this.

I put away Christmas today...

I put away Christmas today. It was really hard for me. And a bit sad.

My Christmas tree. And my coffee table. That's what I want to talk about. 

My Christmas tree was very little. The size that is perfect for a front bay window or a child's bedroom. Mine was in my living room. 

My very own Charlie Brown Christmas Tree.

"I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It's not bad at all, really. 

Maybe it just needs a little love"- Linus Van Pelt

It had white lights, a blue lit star on top, lots of little blue, white, and silver bows, and many a Pensacola, Fl ornament. 

This is the first Christmas tree I've had in five years. My last roommate was allergic to pine and didn't like the smell. There was also an aversion to artificial trees, so needless to say, we never had one.

This is also the first time in 34 years that I have lived by myself. I love it. The freedom is divine. When I moved in I was able to decorate how I wanted to; my color choices, my taste, my idea of cozy and inviting.

So... When Christmas rolled around this year I got really excited to make my little house something special.

I actually had a box of Christmas stuff, believe it or not. It consisted of eleven stained glass angel ornaments (All sent from my Godmother. She has sent me an angel of some kind every year for my birthday and Christmas for as long as I can remember!), a handful of other assorted ornaments, two Robert Sabuda Christmas pop up books, a silver plated nativity set that my mom gave me years ago, and four silver pine cone candles, that smell like fresh pine, that my sister gave me.

I was so excited to finally be able to decorate a tree of my own, that I decorated the heck out of that thing! See???

 

Now, to my coffee table. It started out as just my nativity and the silver pine cones and the pop up books. Like this...

I loved it. But, then it got better. And better. 

As I checked my mail everyday the Christmas cards came pouring in. I got cards from Oz (love you Sparks!), many from MD, PA, FL, and here in VA. I got tons! I have gotten Christmas cards in the past, don't get me wrong, but this year, maybe because I had a new address, I don't know, I got LOTS. Opening the mail was a treat everyday!

I moved the pop up books and began to display all my cards on my coffee table. (I kick myself now for not taking a picture of it! Grrr.) I would sit in my big, comfy chair and a half and just stare at all of the amazing people that God has blessed my life with. They were all over my coffee table; smiling, hugging, bundled up, laughing, and completely and totally full of joy. It was a GREAT coffee table. No room for my coffee, but I didn't care a lick. The table had new purpose.

So... yes. It was tough and sad to put it all away today.

I was away in Florida for two weeks for break, and while I was gone my tree dried out and died. Like, "OUCH! That hurt!!" kind of dried out! Taking it down and throwing it out was somewhat painful, but it was also sort of symbolic of my struggles this last year and my hopes for this new year.

Last year was tough for me in a lot of ways. No need to get into it on a blog, but let's just say it was. My tiny, dead, dry tree was symbolic of a lot of last year for me. However, the presents underneath and the ornaments on it it were also symbolic of a lot of last year for me. I'll explain...

I walked across the parking lot and threw my dead and dry tree in the dumpster. As I was walking back to my apartment I was staring at the ground and I began to notice a trail of dried pine needles- from my little Charlie Brown tree. I felt like Hansel and Gretel following the trail of bread crumbs to find their way home. I came inside and pulled out the vacuum cleaner. As I cleaned my carpet and listened to all the little pine needles hitting the inside of the canister, I thought about that trail of dead, dried needles. All those little needles are all the junk from last year; they are either in the dumpster, in the parking lot to get run over, or getting sucked up never to be seen again. The gunk and unhappy from the past is in the past. It can stay there. On the other hand all my ornaments are safely packed up and preserved to be used again next year and all my presents are put away in their proper new homes; the blessings from last year still shine brightly in my heart and in my home. 

It seems silly that we jump on a "fresh start" every January 1st. Can't we take a fresh start whenever we want to?? March 2nd? September 19? Sure we can, but there really is something symbolic about the old passing away and the new ushering in. 

My apartment is clean now. All of my things are back in their proper places and my Scentsy warmer is burning a clean laundry smell that is filling my house.

I really DO get to leave the past behind me and venture into a new year. 

A new me.

"Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do; forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."- Philippians 3:13-14

BREATHE.

 

 

I've seen this kind of alphabetical photography before, it's a big deal on Pintrest, but four days ago my dear friend Jenni made me really fall in love with seeing the world like this. I find myself noticing things I wouldn't have noticed before simply because I was looking for the letter T or the letter R!

Architecture and building design has a whole new beauty. Cracks in walls and pavements seem strangely un-broken. Plants and trees appear to enjoy the art form as much as I do. Ironwork on gates and banisters and signs, outdoor furniture, electrical equipment, piles of "junk", bridges, boats... You name it, I see it differently now. It truly is amazing what you see when you're looking deeper into things.

Anyway... Jenni showed me all the letters in her name that she had found around the Jacksonville area and so before we left for Savannah, GA we decided that we were going to choose a word to find while we were there.

I chose BREATHE.

This is my word for 2013. 

Breathe, Catherine. 

It's ok to be still and breathe. It's ok to be quiet and breathe.

It's ok to close your eyes for 20 seconds and just breathe.

Heck. It's not only ok- it's necessary. 

But, how little we actually stop and just breathe deeply in our daily lives is tragic. I think we just need to give ourselves permission. Everything is important and every day is GO! GO! GO! that we don't allow ourselves to stop and breathe because we don't recognize it's importance. My mom says "Breathe through the holes in your feet." I always thought it a strange saying, but I know what it means; 

breathe so deeply it feels like it's coming from the very bottom of you. 

I like my new word and so far so good on keeping myself in check with it: 

• Wanting to pull your hair out when your student forgot EVERYTHING over Christmas break... BREATHE, Cath.

• Pinch your finger in between a chair arm and a table and desire to scream things that are highly inappropriate for work... BREATHE, Cath.

• When you are "helped" by a woman in the craft store who is more interested in having a chat with her co-worker than showing you which bale will work the best with that pendant... BREATHE, Cath.

• The dude that cuts you off in traffic... BREATHE, Cath.

• Ramming your shin into the oven door because you forgot you were leaving it open to let the heat out... BREATHE, Cath.  (Can you tell I am having a somewhat hazardous to my health kind of day?? Just. Breathe.)

Point?

Look deeper into the world around you, there is some cool stuff out there.

Oh yeah... and don't forget to breathe.

A blog, Catherine? Really?

I am not a writer by trade, but I love words. 

According to some people I have a gift for putting them together
and making them mean something.

 My grandfather is a writer. The most beautiful poetry you'll ever read is penned by Joseph Wallace. My dad isn't a writer by trade either but when he writes
I cry and laugh and feel. 

So, I guess you could say, if it is a gift, I came by it somewhat naturally.

Over the last several years I have been encouraged many times by my friends to "write a blog!" The thought of writing and other people appreciating it is a bit strange to me.

I simply write.

And when I write... 
I write like I speak and I speak like I think and I think what I feel. 

Really? Why would anyone be interested in my thoughts put down in print?

I never thought I would do this. 

Really. I didn't.

But then...

This morning, the first morning of a brand new year, I was in a gorgeous and slightly eerie cemetery in downtown historic Savannah, GA. The trees were dripping with moss, the above ground tombs were covered in bright green ivy, and I was walking around soaking it all in.
Alone.

I walked.
 Smelling the crisp morning air.
Feeling the dew covered grass brush my flip flop covered feet.
 Experiencing awe at the sight of the mist that hovered just above the tombstones.

I walked.

 I found myself reflecting on this abundantly blessed and yet very difficult past year of my life and thinking about the changes longed for and challenges I desire to overcome in this next year of my life.
I'm not talking about New Year's resolutions here; easily made, easily broken.
I'm talking about true, grown up adult conscious decisions.
Actively CHOOSING to make changes and face challenges in your life.
That's what I was thinking about. 

Just before I got in my car to drive home I posted a status on Facebook about my ponderings in the cemetery, and of course, included the obligatory "Happy New Year!" Again, I was encouraged by a friend, this one from years past, to start a blog.

Then I drove. 

For eight hours. 

And I thought. 

No lie- I didn't turn on my radio once. 

Silence, but for my thoughts and the rain that poured in both the Carolinas. 

I thought about a lot of things. 

One of those things was this blog. Should I? Could I? 

Would anyone care?

 Does that even matter? Wouldn't you be writing it for yourself, Catherine?? 

Yes. Yes, I would be. New challenge accepted.

So... Here I am. 

With pigtails. 

Without makeup. Sorry.
(I guess I am starting this thing out VERY real, huh?? )

Home.
In Richmond, VA.
Writing a blog.

If you want to come along and visit the tiny corners of my mind and my heart from time to time, I invite you in and welcome you! I hope you find it cozy and warm here.

On that note, let me expand on the title of this blog, Tiny Corners. Once I had made up my mind to do this I thought a lot about what I should call this thing. This blog.
 This new challenge I have boldly decided to tackle. This is what I came up with...

I look at our minds and our hearts a lot like a junk drawer. Let me explain.

When you first open a junk drawer all you see is the mini mag-light for when the power goes out during a hurricane, thirty two different colored rubber bands from a once round and bouncy rubber band ball, a roll of Scotch tape, take out menus from your favorite pizza place and the Chinese joint around the corner that makes killer spring rolls, and a pair of dull scissors that should have been replaced ages ago. When you shove all that stuff to the sides though, and start looking in all the corners, you find the good stuff; the missing puzzle piece that someone put there so it didn't get vacuumed up, your ring that you "remember putting down somewhere!", a five dollar bill rolled up in some old receipts, the awesome website you wanted to check out that someone had jotted down on a scratch piece of paper for you, and the "I have no idea what it is, but isn't it cute?!" piece of artwork that your nephew made for you out of pipe cleaners, just because he loves you!

The stresses and the woes of our everyday lives are the Scotch tape and the dull scissors; our jobs, our families and relationships, our health, paying the bills, our worries, our fears, our self doubt, etc...

Consuming.
 They take up a whole lot of space in our junk drawers.

Don't focus too long and too hard on the Scotch tape or you'll miss out on the pipe cleaner masterpieces!!

You find the good stuff in the tiny corners.