Can you feel what I feel? Can we make it so that's part of the deal?

Man, Oh man- I love this time of year. The crisp air and changing weather. The sun that goes to sleep a little earlier in the day. I find the fall to be nostalgic and hopeful and filled with so many sensory triggers that instantly transport me back to childhood. For me, the thing about fall is that it's comfortable- like broken-in jeans, or fuzzy slippers. It just feels right, you know?

I had a friend in college who would eat an astonishing amount of candy corn during the months of October and November. The thing is, she didn't really like them all that much, and they inevitably made her sick, but she ate them anyway. "They taste like being a kid" she told me once. And, I knew exactly what she meant. Candy corn were her preferred method of time travel- the little sugary vessels that took her back to a more comfortable time. I guess life after 13 had plagued her with a lot of pain and uncertainty, and she would tell me- over a bag of candy corn- how 12 was the last time she felt really safe. Candy corn made her feel safe again- at least momentarily. I suppose that's the power of a memory.

I was flipping stations on the radio the other day and I came across this song called 'Broken Arrow', by Rod Stewart. It was right at the line that says "Who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow? Who else is gonna bring you a bottle of rain?" It made me instantly sentimental because it took me back to 12 or 13 years old, riding in the front seat of my dad's truck, and listening to the album 'Vagabond Heart'. Man, I loved that album. Maybe I loved it so much because I only listened to it with my dad- only in his truck- and almost always when it was just the two of us. But, hearing that song again reminded me of this feeling of being completely okay- this feeling that, no matter what, being with my dad was where I belonged.

And, hearing that song again in my own car- at 24 years of age, and more than an hour's drive from my dad- I felt okay, safe even, like I belonged somewhere.

Memories have a funny way of sneaking up on you. And, I've always been very intrigued by how closely they're tied to our senses. I guess that's why I love the fall so much- there are so many good memories that I collected during those months, and an endless amount of triggers that take me instantly back to them.

My friend with the candy corn memories, moved to Ohio after our freshman year of college. She fell in love and married a man that made her feel safe. But, I can't help but wonder if she still eats candy corn. And, I can't help but wonder if 12 years from now, hearing Rod Stewart sing about broken arrows, will still make me feel as if I'm perfectly, and completely, okay- like exactly where I am, is exactly where I belong.

Neon Lies. Scarlet Truth.

Thoughts of forever, tied heavily to doubts of yesterday. Hope strangled by fear. Tangled in lies. Truth, all but gone.

So far. So far away.

Thoughts of now. Right here. Now. A broken record- skipping and scratched. Stuck on now. Where was the truth? Lost in the lies. You can't. You won't. Never will. Lies of an enemy.

Dark and cold. Feeling so cold and so real.

Thoughts of freedom. Gone. Dead on the pavement. Traded for color and light. Flashing neon light of half truths and small deaths. On repeat. Replayed for the world.

Bloodshed in Sacrifice.

Ignored for the siren call of false freedom. A world demanding payment. Entry will cost. Codemned to die. The cost of their freedom, a soul caged. The world with the key, clutched in iron fists. Death.

Bloodshed in Sacrifice.

"I am the Resurrection, and the Life." Absent of neon lights and gilded cages. Scarlet truth wrapped in Life, found in hope. Thoughts of forever, freed from doubts of yesterday.

Freedom. For His blood: Life.

A Peaceful, Easy Feeling

Sometimes I have this overwhelming desire to sleep outside, under the open sky. Tonight is one of those nights. A breathtaking night- cool with a slight breeze. And, although I can't see the stars in the bright lights of the city, I know there must be a zillion of them hovering high above me. It reminds me of a line from an Eagles song "I want to sleep with you in the desert tonight, with a billion stars all around..."

There are times when I really miss having a regular audience with the stars. Stars make me feel connected to something vast- something so much vaster than I will ever know.

I was sitting on my porch earlier tonight , imagining that I could see the stars, and I had this really vivid memory of being a child at The Grand Canyon. I remember sitting under the stars on, what seemed to be at the time, the very edge of the earth-- and, thinking that the possibility of something extraordinary happening was very real. And, I have to admit that tonight, sitting on my porch, under my imagined stars-- I got that very same feeling again. The possibility of extraordinary does exist. And, the reality of extraordinary is everywhere.

Maybe it's like love- when we stop and look, we realize that it's all around us--it always was.

I guess what I'm saying is that tonight I feel extraordinary. Extraordinary, like a 10 year old girl on the edge of The Grand Canyon. Extraordinary, like a 24 year old girl who has yet to taste the best of what's to come...

"I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, O Sovereign LORD; I will proclaim your righteousness, yours alone"

This is my reminder that God is a big God. Bigger than me and bigger than my life. He commands the rising and the setting of the sun each day. And, when I think about that, I am humbled by his sovereignty.

Restless Pacing and Whispered Promises

Restlessness settles heavy in my feet as I pace the wooden floors of my small home. I say home, though it lacks the people that usually make a home. It's hard to except that home is sometimes a place where only one person sleeps. Home seems to be too big a word for that. But, one person does sleep here. And, it IS my home- I know this because it's filled with the things I've collected and gathered through the years. Books and paintings. Trinkets and framed smiles. Soft things for comfort.

My home: filled with things, but not people. My small, quaint home- perfectly arranged for my perfect comfort. Yet, suddenly I feel betrayed by my home, as it threatens to swallow me in a cavern of things.

Empty of people. Except one. Me and my home.

Pacing. Pacing.

I turn on the television for some noise. But, then mute it because it's not the noise I need. I watch the colors dance around the screen. I watch as it tells stories of other lives, in other homes. Silently played out scenes of life and family. Movement and color interact with me in a disconnected way. But, no comfort can be found in disconnected interaction. I turn the television off.

Pacing. Pacing.

A stack of bills. A stack of magazines. A stack of books. I choose the books, and ruffle through them absently. Flipping worn pages, and reading old words. The thoughts of other people. Other people in other homes. I'm unattached to their lives, yet reading their words. Suddenly that feels hollow. Not enough. I put the books back down.

Pacing. Pacing.

I talk out loud to God. I like the way my voice bounces off the wooden floors. I talk and talk and talk. I pace and talk to God. I talk about my empty home and my restless feet. I talk about my heart that aches in one beat and leaps in the next. He understands that- deep in my chest, I feel He understands that. An aching and leaping heart. Sadness and Joy. Loneliness and contentment. He understands.

I'm tired of pacing and I'm tired of talking. I sit. I listen for sound. I listen for Him to fill the silence. And, He does, in His way. He fills the silence with whispered promises in my ear. And I know- in my chest, I know- that His whispers will, one day, become loud and booming realities.

I recall a promise that God made to Sarah. I think, in her waiting for the fulfillment of that problem, she probably experienced similar moments of pacing and restlessness. But, God's whispered promise became her booming reality. "God has made me laugh" she said, "and all who hear will laugh with me."

In my chest, I understand exactly how Sarah must have felt.

Al Gore, A Broken Heart, Movie Romance and Other 4x6 Confessions

I couldn't sleep the other night (surprised?). So, I read. Then, I got bored. So, I watched TV. Got bored. Sat on my couch, thinking. Got bored. Sat on my porch, thinking. Got bitten by mosquitoes. Considered painting. Got depressed by my lack of inspiration. Read painting magazines. Got really depressed. Thought about calling a friend. Realized all of my friends were sleeping. Read, again. Got bored, again. Tried to watch 'Alfie'. Realized my DVD player was still broken. Sighed heavily. Ended up on my computer. Realized that computers are the friend of the insomniac. Wondered what insomniacs did before Al Gore invented the internet. Wondered what Al Gore was doing at that precise moment. Assumed he was sleeping. Moved on.

Ugh. Ever have one of those nights? No? Well, count your blessings. Al Gore is not a comforting person to think about at 3 am (actually, Al Gore is not a comforting person to think about EVER. But, that's another blog, altogether...)

So, on my quest for mindless 'entertainment' (word used rather loosely), I stumbled upon this particular blogsite: Post Secret. Basically, you send them your anonymous, deep-dark, secret on a 4x6 postcard, and they add it to their site. Intriguing, n0?

My secret is that I cried while reading all the anonymous secrets. Yes. I really cried. I cried for the strangers and their little 4x6 confessions. Maybe it was the weather change. Maybe it was the early hour. Maybe it was that I'm a sentimental schmuck. Who knows?

Whatever the case, it made me wonder how my 4x6 confession would read. I made a list and thought I would share some of them. Keep in mind that I don't have the advantage of anonymity, and I will have to look most of you in the eye very soon. Needless to say, these are fairly tame. But, this exercise was kind of cathartic. In a way. I guess. Or, maybe it just helped to pass the time a little quicker. Either way, here they are...

Emily's 4x6 Confessions:

1. Although I denied it at the time, I took the easy route and voted straight party on the last presidential election. Checked one box, and I was done.

2. Sometimes, at work, I eat sandwiches from the vending machine. Pre-packaged Blimpies. Can you imagine?

3. I can sit and look at my pores in a magnified mirror for a very, very long time.

4. I go WAY past 3000 miles and 3 months for an oil change.

5. I eat tuna straight from the can. With a plastic fork.

6. When someone calls my phone, and I don't recognize their number or voice, I say "Emily isn't here" and I take a message...for myself.

7. In 1989,'Fluffy', my hamster, died. I never told anyone that the day before, I had accidentally dropped her on her head. She probably suffered from an intracranial hemorrhage. I killed her. Sorry, Fluffy. I really did love you. I was just clumsy.

8. I'm still clumsy.

9. In 1989, the most creative name I could think of for my pet hamster was 'Fluffy'. Her life-partner's (equally uncreative) name was 'Puffy' (This was Pre-Sean Combs). Puffy died a few weeks after Fluffy's tragic accident. Although never proven, I believe it was from a broken-heart. It is not good for hamster to be alone.

10. I watch the end of 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' over and over again. You know the scene where Holly is looking for Cat, and Paul comes back, and the rain is pouring down, and they find Cat, and then he kisses her? I love that scene.

He Called me His "Beloved"

I believed them. When they said I wasn't good enough- I believed. He said "You were made in My Image". They said there was no way. He said "I am the Way". They gave me no hope. He said "I will give you hope and a future". They said I was a mistake. He said "You were wonderfully made".

He called me His "Beloved".

I believed them. When they said I was unloved- I believed. I said "Please love me". They said "Earn it". He said "It's free".

He called me His "Beloved".

I ran towards them. The ones who thought me unworthy. The ones who gave me no hope- who did not love me. I ran towards them.

He called me His "Beloved".

He waited for me. They never waited for me, but he waited. And when I returned to Him- Broken. Beaten. Torn. Used. He said "Behold, I make all things new..."

I am His Beloved.