Summer blooms 💛 July 20th.
Quiet moment at the beach, beholding creation. July 15th
Sometimes. it’s a whirlwind opera in my brain where I am so damn sensitive and self-centered.
VBS. early work shift. whispers of you being not enough from different corners. The pat on the back that isn’t returned. the empty hollow of your half heart echoing back in the eyes and bodies of the children you teach.
You can start new every day. Every moment. You can choose to fall down into grace knowing that you are an utter, stinking mess. Like a beggar showing up at a feast where everyone smells like perfume.
That the main man of the party would come out, shower you, clothe you, feed you, and make you know that you are loved.
I have a hard time believing this.
I am having a hard time loving.
It’s about those children. It’s about caring enough about what you DO. and understanding that it effects other people.
He’ll take the broken, clumpy dirt mud, and turn it into a feast, a dance, a romp through the most beautiful meadow and refreshing ocean.
So HIS word is life.
Be the potter. Shape, smash, press, bake me in hot fire. To be the right kind of vessel.
The humid air hit my face in a wave. The hot, oppressive weather and overcast skies reminded me of walking down the sidewalk in Shanghai. Yellow and sea green taxis swerving and honking, so many faces and all a blur, vegetables in a woven basket on the side of the road.
Strange, to be here now, with coworkers who are native Chinese still- even more compounding the Shanghai experience here in my office building in Cupertino.
Lying in the room with wet hair. making wine syrup to drizzle over peaches. Yesterday I wasn’t fully awake or aware in my conversations.
Thoughts of renewal, surrender, pleasure, life, pain, death, marriage, all of that spins like a little tornado in my head.