Let's Just Stay Here

Sunshine in February!

How cool would it be to live in a snow globe? Maybe a little boring after a while, but right now the idea of living inside a little glass orb with perpetual snow and chimney smoke sounds fantastic. I want to dismantle the days of February and make them into walls and roof and a fireplace so I can live here. As I was walking to class this morning, there were robins chirping away in the empty birch trees. I guess they're not aware it's winter. Or they're aware it's Valentine's Day on Friday and they've got to step up their game. Who knows.

Magical Blanchard

I was listening to the Weepies (question: when am I not listening to the Weepies? answer: when I'm not listening to Kings of Convenience or Ben Howard) and there's this line I love from Slow Pony Home: I held so many people in my suitcase heart. Which is exactly how I feel. I told a friend on Friday that as much as I could adopt him, I would. I will be mother and father and sister and cousin because I love him and support him. Then we both cried. Because we know that we don't live inside of February and that the suitcase has to be unpacked in order to go on the next journey and grief is the price for loving people.

Snapchat: A Family Activity 

Coloring Our Friends: A Family Activity

This Friday is Singles Awareness Day or Yeah, I'm Dating Someone! Day or Let's Get Some Chocolate or Thank God It's Friday!. I've always loved Valentine's day (who doesn't love a day that revolves around notes, chocolate, and love?), but this year is more special. This is the last opportunity I have to try to tell my adopted family, my worn and heavy suitcase, how much I love this moment with them. How much I want to live in this house of February with them forever, hanging cut out hearts, eating Kisses, and listening to the robins.

Much love,

Em

CHRISTMAS: A Family Activity

Stealing My Phone: A Family Activity

Pretention & Decision Points

I told a friend on a airplane that I think that other people who write blogs are pretentious. But what I really meant is that when I see other people writing blogs I feel less unique, less important. So I stopped writing here for a while, and I may not write for another six months after this. For now, I want this moment captured.

After stressing out for the past six months about my prospects as a future employee, I have a job offer. A pretty good one, too. It's terrible pay, challenging and thankless work, far away from my dearest friends and treasured family, and very short term. More importantly, it's in a new, unexplored city, mentoring middle schoolers (in math specifically but hopefully in life more broadly), earning a wee bit of cash (mainly being able to pay off my loans at the end of it). I applied to this job as a sort of jest, I didn't think they would want me, I didn't think it would happen.

December Snowmen

Walking down my favorite street in this town, past the house I would live in if given the opportunity, the snow mountains dotted every lawn. The sun was bright, my hands were cold, my friend had a bad day. We walked and commiserated. Our dreams were seemingly floating off behind us and who knew where we were going or why. I said, "I just want to be in Denver, mentoring younger people, telling girls that they are valuable and precious and beautiful and capable, I want to be a part of a vibrant church that wants to be near the poor, and I want to knit with friends on a Friday night." Denver was a joke, part of some fantasy kingdom, a place somewhere out in this magical land called my future where I pay taxes and choose to have a simple life and carry my groceries home after getting off the bus. Normal life, outside of school, living on my own. Five hours later I got a call, asking for an interview.

Walking Buddies, with Ian photobombing

And now it's here. Denver. Tutoring kids. One year. An adventure that will be hard and scary and I'll want out several times. A gamble that may or may not have dividends of real consequence. I haven't decided, I have until 5 today. For now, I just want to remember that my God is one who gives more than we ask or imagine. In a moment in December when I thought the only people listening were Andrew and the snowmen, God was there. He was on that walk, bundled up this gift, and now it's in front of me, wrapping paper and all.

Other gifts