in the tranquil

Tranquility grows more precious to me as I grow older; as every day passes.  I love to dwell in the silent fields where wildflowers bloom, creeks gurgle, and dragonflies hover. The peace and serenity of an open garden gate calls to me more loudly than dark movie theaters and gossip with neighbors ever could. To escape, even for a moment, from the ringing clamor of daily life is relief like no other: the teenage drama, the jealousy, the squabbles, the boy-talk, the ever-chatting voices that whine and warble and snap and sometimes begin to sound like yipping Chihuahuas. 

It's not that I don't love people--I do. I enjoy conversations, I enjoy friends, I enjoy gatherings, movies, music, laughter, the pleasure that comes with being loud and silly every once in awhile. It's just that lately people have seemed louder, talk has seemed more meaningless, and the world is appearing more and more fake.  

It's just that there is an unmistakable pleasure in silence that comes every once in awhile, too. 

But I don't live in a dreamboat world. Lying on my back in a white dress in a wooden canoe with rose petals floating beside me in the crystal waters is purely the stuff of Pinterest. And in this life, I won't get anywhere if I let myself trail my hands in a lake all day long. It has to come in snatches. 

It doesn't have to be in a field surrounded by wildflowers, it can simply be you huddled in your tiny closet, talking to God for ten minutes. It can be stepping outside for a mere moment to catch your breath on a long an busy day. 

Life can so easily blot God out. I can so easily blot God out. And without God, there is no true reaching of tranquility. Peace can be felt in a boat, in a field, in a white or blue or peachy dress. But true serenity begins in the heart, and where God abides. 

Finally, brothers, rejoice. Aim for restoration, comfort one another,agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you.

[2nd Corinthians 13:11]

a revel in june

June began without my knowledge. It was May the last I checked, and then--all of a sudden--it was the new month. The month of sunshine, roses, kittens, weddings, starlit nights and constant change. It arrived quietly, yet I believe it will go out with a crash and a bang. So I want to revel in it for awhile--because I know it will be a good month. 

This last weekend I attended the wedding of a sweet long-time friend, Nicole. It was a beautiful wedding (the lovely bride hand-made her beautiful dress! Now that takes some skill, friends. Trust me.), and amidst the dancing and sunshine and talk I had the opportunity to be a sort of "third-shooter." I was in heaven. Truly. 

As I got in everyone's faces and stood/sat/knelt/belly-flopped everywhere, clicking away, something whispered inside of me, I would love to do this, always. And just like that, I had a full-blown argument inside my mind: 

"I could do this!" 

"No, you couldn't. You don't have the gear." 

"I could save!" 

"It would take you years." 

"I know I could do this. I love this. This is me."

"You're fooling yourself. You need so much more than ideas. It would take hard work."

"Everything worthwhile in life takes hard work."

I prayed about it, right there. I said, "Lord, if it's in Your plan for me to somehow, someway become a professional photographer, despite my lack of knowledge and funds at this point...will You show me?"

And the next day, something happened. Something I never expected to happen for years. Something really exciting. I can't tell you about it right now, but as soon as it's settled I will. All I can say is this: God. Is. Good. 

..And that, plus the fact that all of the little seeds I planted in our garden are growing up splendidly, there is French Bread in the kitchen, ice cream in the freezer,  kittens in the woodpile, and a giveaway from this amazing shoppe brewing on the horizon, is why I know June is going to be a good month. 

So let me revel in it for awhile. 

xo,

lucia

our mornings

Our mornings look like

coffee spills and coffee steam and coffee cups on the coffee table,

sleepy eyes and early mists, 

shower races, wet hair, 

scraping the plastic yogurt carton for the last of it,

topping your breakfast with last summer's berries.

Our mornings sound like

"hurry up!" and, "where's my toothbrush?"

"you took it all!" and, "grab the cat!"

then

"don't forget, the faucet's broken--

never mind. I'll clean it up."

Our mornings are 

nothing special.

But, they are

our mornings. 

What are your's?