Getting paid to play with kids is a dream. Here are some of the kids I got to spend time with this past year. I could go on for pages about how funny, sweet, brilliant, creative, and ornery they are...but I'll spare you.

And it's doubly amazing when their parents are great. Or when they listen to Beach House and have the new album for me to borrow! Which, speaking of, here's a little gift from la blogotheque...beautiful!

And so it is, the start of lent. Time to recognize the gift of life we are given, that we are more than just bodies, or animals, or a momentary mistake. Somehow we've been given life, which encompasses the really good and the really bad, our creativity, our intelligence, our longings, our ability and desire to love and be loved. Amazing! And even more, that we're able to participate in whatever reason or purpose that this might be, to engage deeply with the reality of our humanness, to engage purposefully with the life-giver, and to engage hopefully with the people around us.

I want to press more into all of these. To figure out who I am and what I love even more, to more intimately experience God, and to love the people around me as well as I can. I have yet to determine a practical way to do this, such as something to sacrifice or focus on for 40 days...but I'm hoping offering this desire to the Lord will jumpstart my imagination!

I'm sure I've quoted him before but Thomas Kelly is pure genius, so here's a bit more.

"For the Eternal is urgently, actively breaking into time, working through those who are willing to be laid hold upon, to surrender self-confidence and self-centered effort, that is, self-originated effort, and let the Eternal be the dynamic guide in recreating, through us, our time-world."

and then he goes on to describe the hope for our lives to be "moving images of the Eternal Life" which is seriously beautiful.

I have a deep, deep love for Martin Luther King Jr. Our hearts seem to be made of the same fabric. He's like a brother from another generation, place, race, etc., but I feel like one in the same sometimes. I mean, our hearts are similar of course...what we've actually achieved, well, I have a long way to go. I can only hope to be more like him, to have as much courage as I have heartache.

He made a statement about his opposition to the war in Vietnam in 1967 and had a brilliant explanation. Not only did he feel it was exploitation of the poor, but felt like as a follower of Jesus he had specific reasons he couldn't let it go on. He called the speech "Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence", and it's beautiful. He continues to be a prophet, 42 years after his death.

Here's a link. It's worth 22 minutes, I promise.

I have no idea who this is, but I think these photos are breathtaking. Detroit breaks my heart.

"O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquility the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which are cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen."

Lately I've been having the same conversation over and over: the difficulty of living life with a mindset beyond ourselves. It's interesting though to discuss it with friends that are followers of Jesus, Muslims, and Agnostics alike. It's just so hard, for everyone, to remember that there is (or might be, for those still processing belief) anything beyond what we see, taste, and touch. When you're busy, you're focused on your busyness. When you're not, you're focused on yourself. (Maybe I'm speaking more for myself, but have grace for me while I make generalizations.) It seems too, that once we're reminded that there is, or might be, something more than our own worlds we wonder how we got by living so small before. Sadly, it seems to be a cycle, and we're always rediscovering what a life beyond our physical senses really looks like.

For this reason, I continue to appreciate the season of advent. It's precious to me to have an entire month of reflecting, in expectation, on the hope of the world. Advent reminds me that there's more than daily tasks and obligations, even more than my relationships with people and nonsensical emotions. It reminds me that all of this is real and matters, but only in light of the importance and reality of the grand story being told. Luckily, the meta-narrative is one of nothing but hope for the world. And for my own soul, which is beautiful to remember.

Last night Brooke and I were decorating our apartment for Christmas and listening to Christmas music. I was being somewhat pretentious and ranting about how I can't appreciate didactic art, sadly including a large chunk of Christian music. When it becomes informative, it loses its authenticity for me. Either way, that's not the point...The point is that during this conversation one of my favorite Christmas songs from last year came on. It's a silly pop song about fir trees and presents, and not meant to be worship at all, I don't think, except that the people making it love Jesus. But one of the lines is "He landed on the earth all wrapped in skin, and they're the only ones to find him". To me, this communicates the gift of God as human, and the importance of his birth in such a beautiful way. God actually came to earth, as a baby! And this baby happened to be the one that Yahweh would give the majesty of his name. It's incredible, and hope-filled, and reminds me to live beyond myself.

Isaiah 11

¹ A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;
from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.

² The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him—
the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and of might,
the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the LORD—

³ and he will delight in the fear of the LORD.
He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,
or decide by what he hears with his ears;

⁴ but with righteousness he will judge the needy,
with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.
He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth;
with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.

⁵ Righteousness will be his belt
and faithfulness the sash around his waist.

⁶ The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling ^a]">[a] together;
and a little child will lead them.

⁷ The cow will feed with the bear,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.

⁸ Infants will play near the hole of the cobra;
young children will put their hands into the viper's nest.

⁹ They will neither harm nor destroy
on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the LORD
as the waters cover the sea.

¹⁰ In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious.

I'm a really thankful girl, and feel in light of thanksgiving I should share. Most days I think if I deserve anything based on my character or actions, it's a slap in the face. Yet somehow I'm consistently provided for, and forgiven, and loved beyond reason.

Of course I'm thankful for nighttime bike rides, and tube lights, and getting caught in the rain, and new music, and chocolate, and colorful earrings, and puzzles. But even more so, I'm thankful for the people in my life. How wonderful to not only have a family that supports me and cares for me and loves me across the ocean, but to also have a family here. Notably, I remember two years ago and continue to be thankful for Joe's life, and also remember 21 years ago when I prayed for a sister and am so thankful for Sola. I really could go on and on.

I've been feeling especially thankful lately that I am always learning and growing. I'm thankful that I'm given the opportunity to be challenged, to risk, to fail, to change. Also I think of Orwell's words that "People with empty bellies never despair of the universe, nor even think about the universe, for that matter" and am grateful to be provided for so well physically that I can spend time learning about and processing issues of the world. Or even process the issues of my heart and my dreams.

So, thankfulness abounds! I wish I could go on, but I'm off to bake pies.

So, is there anything better than surfy, lo-fi music paired with a dance scene from a 1960s film? Brilliant.